


It's Disaster (My Heartbeat Goes Faster).

by ftwnhgn



Category: Buzzfeed: Worth It (Web Series)
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Marriage of Convenience, Romance, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-10
Updated: 2018-07-20
Packaged: 2019-03-29 16:22:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13930785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ftwnhgn/pseuds/ftwnhgn
Summary: It turns out that Andrew has been Canadian all along. It also turns out he only comes up with one plan to save his skin and Steven's say in it is minimal. It also turns out that falling in love along the way down the (fake) aisle isn't part of Andrew's plan, but not every plan works out perfectly.(Inspired by The Proposal (2009) and bringing all your (and my) favourite trope to life.)





	1. The Proposal.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, hello, hello and hi. Several things here at play so a foreword is more or less needed. Also, I love to ramble about shit. 
> 
> I am bad at finishing stuff or writing long things, so let's pray this will see the end of the day i.e. will be done. For your and my sake. This piece of writing was inspired by a Worth It binge, my favourite trope in the whole wide world and all the land, Andrew once saying how non-canadian they are and by a spotify standrew playlist that has nearly 300 songs. (Seriously, whoever made this playlist, I OWE you big time.) Also, if some facts and things feel off, then that's most certainly meant to be since some stuff was changed or just ignored in favour of this story and too much resemblance to real life. (RPF is a delicate thing, after all.) I'm no native speaker, so if this stinks with sentences that don't make sense, I apologize.
> 
> Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Any people mentioned here might have the name of real life individuals or bear resemblance but, by god, they're in no way the same or meant. The characters in this story were nothing more but inspired. Also, if you're any of the people mentioned above and are not a fan of stuff like this, I kindly ask you to just ignore it and not read further. I do recommend you to watch the romcom masterpiece The Proposal though, Sandra Bullock and Ryan Reynolds are delightful in it. And to readers: please don't share this with the mentioned people above. Thank you very much.
> 
> In short: The guys work at a sort of publishing house / newspaper & magazine / social media hybrid instead of Buzzfeed. Andrew is head of Entertainment (specializing in movies and movie-making especially) but helped to launch the Food section, where Steven, Adam (and others, for example Rie work) with Steven becoming the head of it once Andrew turned the leading position over. Ryan is part of Entertainment after working at Sports and Shane has a column there too, but is mainly the guy for the weather and news stuff. Sara is his executive producer. Kelsey is Andrew's assistant bc someone needed to own this guy's balls. Quinta is an editor. Ned is the boss because I wanted it that way and Eugene and Zach work directly for him. Tada! Keith is the "bad guy laywer" because somebody had to be.
> 
> Be prepared to get acquainted with a lot of italics and my three favourite words: probably, certainly and well.
> 
> Title: The Hunna - She's Casual

Andrew doesn’t want to know how he looks right now, staring at his boss with eyes widened a fraction, which is the equivalent of someone’s eyes bugging out of their head if he’d be another person. His eyes just keep on looking at Mr. Fulmer ( _Ned_ , his boss always insists everyone calls him by his name. What a crazy-people thing to do.) as if the shock in them could make him take back the information he just shared with his employee. As if it could save Andrew from that big, big pile of _shit_ that is crushing into him at rapid speed and so immediately.

The palms of his hands find themselves automatically as Andrew prepares himself to lower his standards for one moment in his career, preparing himself to beg. If he has to, he will. If there is no other option, he will go down on his knees.

“Ned.” Green eyes shoot to the other suit-clad figure in the room, the lawyer, and Andrew changes course. “Mr. Fulmer. I’ve been part of this company for six years now. _Six_ years. In that time I revived the whole Entertainment section and helped starting the Cuisine section. I helped with the employee training, with the redesign of the website. Hell, I flew to Australia to get us the interview with Peter Jackson before he vanished from the face of the earth again and before The Post could get their hands on it. I did this, Mr. Fulmer.  I helped to pick out _the flowers_ to your wedding. There is _nothing_ I wouldn’t do for this company. Or You. You can’t seriously let them do this.”

His voice sounds pathetic to his own ears, makes Andrew cringes involuntary and if he’d be a more open person he might even gag. If this would be someone else drowning in their misery, he would. He would even do it with one of his smirks while eating a $20 salmon sandwich topped with a §15 omelette, just for the fun of it.

“Andrew, I know this,” Mr. Fulmer replies. He has that sunny smile on that’s supposed to calm people down. It doesn’t quite do the trick this time around. “I do. Believe me. But that is the problem, you see? You went to Australia last year when you weren’t allowed to leave the country, if your immigration lawyer is to be believed. Which he is, he has the paperwork to prove it.”

This is going _swimmingly_ , Andrew’s mind points out for him. This is going _great_. Ned still has that too kind voice laid on thick over his smile. If this man has a solution (hopefully), it will be at a great coast (please not) and if this is his way of delivering it lightly, Andrew would prefer the cold, hard truth delivered to him straight. On ice, please. Just get it over with.

“And since you pushed off your meetings with the immigration office and, on top of that, violated the terms of your work visa, what we’re facing here is deportation,” Ned finishes his little speech, voice dripping with disappointment and … is this remorse?

Every possible scenario Andrew envisioned comes up short to this. Every thought he had in his brain up until now just stops, like hitting the breaks in front of the upcoming stop sign too hard for anyone’s liking. It’s like somebody sucked every little bit of oxygen out of the room in a second.

“You’re kidding, right?” He swallows sharply. “I mean, _Sir_. You’re kidding, right, Sir?”

Ned looks at him with a sharp glance, but his eyes turn soft and sad in an instant, his head shaking from side to side like a, like a fucking cuckoo's clock. His boss never was one to deliver the hard blows the way Andrew himself could. Maybe this isn’t such a bad thing right now that Andrew feels like his whole life, whole future, is crumbling in front of his eyes. So much to that salary raise he was eyeing for a year now, so much for the expanding of the entertainment branch to single out his own movie branch. So much to that vacation he really needed and had his secretary carve out in his minisculely planned schedule. _So much_ to everything.

“I am not, Andrew. I am so, so sorry. I know this isn’t ideal or what you had planned. Or what _we_ had planned. But there is a solution, you have an option that, I think, is something we could all agree on,” Ned proposes then but his tone is still that syrupy-sweet and no matter how much Andrew gets along with his boss or how much he likes him, this isn’t cutting it. This is _bullshit_ and Ned knows it too. If he wouldn’t, he wouldn’t try so fucking hard in front of the immigration lawyer.

Andrew makes a gesture with his hand for his boss to continue, since speaking would just end up making him look even more pathetic in front of too many people.

“You will be deported, but not forever. For a year only, more or less.”

Andrew’s eyebrows quirk up. “And I can keep working?”

Ned’s face turns sour, pinched eyebrows and all. _Oh_. “No, you can’t. But we would employ you again, of course. No hesitations. You’d just have to stick it out for a year.”

“Who will take over my job? I mean, if I’m not head of entertainment, who will be?” Andrew asks, question burning under his nails and he’s already nauseous at the thought of Ned’s answer. He can’t give this up. This is, this job is his baby, he put everything he had into this. He can’t imagine anyone else having ownership over it. He feels sick just at the thought.

“Ryan Bergara would take over. You two have been working together for four years now _and_ he has the experience, after all, that no one else in the company could match,” Ned says, as diplomatic as Nixon at the Watergate hearings. His visage makes Andrew just as sick as his answer.

“No. no, no, no, no, no, no. Mr. Fulmer, _no_ . Bergara and I may work together and, and respect each other, but I could not hand Entertainment over to him. This doesn’t work like this,” Andrew protests, once more close to cringing at his desperation. _Get it together, man_.

Ned’s index finger is tipping on his desk, a good sign he is losing his patience with Andrew and, huh, that’s a first in all this time of Andrew working for the guy. Not even while planning the stressful parts of his wedding, was he ever that upset. Andrew really must have done him some good here. Well, there’s a first for everything.

“It is how this will work, Andrew. Unless you have another option I don’t know abo-”

The door to Ned’s office opens and a silver-dyed head of hair drops in, followed by long limbs and an outfit that is certainly frowned upon in any other company; colorful shirt and a sort of trench coat and bomber jacket hybrid thing, adorned by yellow sneakers and ridiculously inappropriate spots of flour and what must be traces of burned sugar on awfully tight jeans. Really, awfully and annoyingly tight and dirty. It’s the sort of look Andrew rolled his eyes at for years.

“Oh, I can come back another time,” Steven Lim says then, sniffing that the situation he stumbled into is a bit tense, to say the least. He’s got a coffee cup in his hand and a binder under his arm and Andrew could already point out five things that are wrong with this. Especially considering that he was planning to talk to his boss. This company is casual but not _that_ casual.  

(It’s not that he hates Steven or anything, they’re friends, actually. Or, well, colleagues that get along well, but the other man has the sort of character that just clashes with about 85% of Andrew’s life philosophy. And in the high stress situation he’s under, it’s hard for Andrew to pick up on anything that isn’t a grain of salt to his already foul mood.)

“I just wanted to ask you something, Ned, but if this is bad timing and you’re otherwise _engaged_ , I can just -” he flails around with his hands, balancing his coffee cup artfully in between gestures that are just as ridiculous as his outfit as Andrew stares at him.

The idea pops into his head in a rush, blowing the desert of the halted train of thoughts away easily with its sheer idiocy and logic at the same time. It’s delightful. He motions to Steven, who is thankfully looking at him in some sort of terror or confusion, but it doesn’t stop Andrew to keep on motioning towards him with hand movements below his waistline, so at least Ned won’t see them. The immigration lawyer, well, he’s currently the smallest of Andrew’s concern. Shouldn’t be, probably. But that’s what happens when you’re in Andrew’s peripheral vision when he’s under such amount of stress. Has he said he’s stressed? He really is.

Steven, bless his soul and his heart and his quick mind, gets the memo after twenty truthfully awkward seconds that feel more like twenty years and stumbles over to Andrew, who bites down the absolute horror inside of himself at the inappropriateness he will have to display now. But neither of them flinch as Andrew puts a hand on his lower back, violating several terms of workplace behaviour and assault regulations all while trying to keep his face as unfazed as possible.

“I have _another_ option,” Andrew begins, thinking along as he just goes for it. “I, uhm. I just didn’t want to bring it up in this context. I never thought I had to.”

He can see _and_ feel Steven’s face turn to him, surely mouthing something between _‘What the heck?_ ’ (since the guy never swears at work) and ‘ _what is going on?_ ’ at him as he tightens his grip on the other man’s waist, already feeling the shame burn through him at how wrong every single layer of this whole thing is. How fucked-up and how so incredibly and utterly desperate.

“Oh. What is it, Andrew?” Ned asks, sounding genuinely interested and delighted and Andrew closes his eyes briefly to apologize to whatever higher power or god is out there that they created Ned Fulmer and his heart of gold and that Andrew will violate it so ruthlessly.

He is a bad man.

“I’m engaged,” he says then, cold rush running down his spine.

“You’re-” Steven turns to him but Andrew cuts him off and quickly raises his voice over him.

“ _We_ are engaged. I meant we. Steven and I.”

Ned’s eyes widen in surprise, Steven’s does too and the immigration lawyer is close to falling off the wall he’s been leaning on, which truly is a testament to how absolutely inane and out of character this is for Andrew to say.

“You’re _what_ ? _You and Steven_? Really?!” Ned exclaims, so stupidly excited and giddy at hearing this that Andrew would prefer biting into chalk than having to experience his reaction. Oh, Ned loves his marriages and love stories. This man is obsessed with his wife and all the kids they don’t have yet, no wonder he’s biting into this like a kid into candy at Halloween.

What a fucking great idea. Really.

“Me and Andrew,” Steven says, hesitant and a little shocked for Andrew’s want for this to be convincing.  “Me and Andrew. Are engaged,” he repeats again, like a particularly dumb-founded parrot.

Maybe he lost all his IQ points through the shock. Surely not out of the realm of possibilities.

“We are engaged,” Andrew repeats too and turns his head to smile at Steven, nose bumping into the other’s jaw as he’s reminded how much taller the other man is. Great idea all along. Yes. Absolutely. So convincing. “We are. I just didn’t think I would have to bring it up like this. You know what a private person I am, Mr. Fulmer.”

“And what a private person you are. _So private_ ,” Steven agrees dryly. But Andrew can feel his own arm now going around Andrew’s back and he knows he has this in the bag for now, no matter the later costs. That doesn’t matter right now.

Ned nods too, all of them in tandem once more, and isn’t that just fucking splendid?

“Of course, of course I do,” he says, solemn and serious suddenly. He’s got rid of the sugary voice, thank god for that. “But this is fantastic news! I’m happy for you two! I had no idea that you two even were a thing, Andrew!”

“ _Very_ private,” Andrew repeats and nods along to Ned’s words of celebration. Better than to look him in the eye. Or Steven, who still clings to him, which is too much body contact for Andrew to really come off as the comfortable fiancé. He hopes it’s enough for now.

“We really were a bit on and off at the beginning. You _know_ how Andrew can be, Ned. But I won him over about two years ago. And then-”

“I proposed four months ago,” Andrew cuts him off with a grit of his teeth. He might deserve Steven’s own honey-sweetened version of Ned’s sugar-coated bullshit-voice, but that doesn’t mean he has to endure it for long in front of actual _people_.

“This makes things much easier, does it?” Ned says and turns away from them to turn his desk chair to the man from the immigration office. “That means this will go much more smoothly and Mr. Ilnyckyj can stay employed, right?”

The man pushes his glasses up his nose and shrugs, the picture of nonchalance. “Unless this isn’t a fraud for him to avoid the deportation, then yes. Mr. Ilnyckyj,” and with that the man turns from Ned to Andrew and points at him, too, _what the fuck_. “and his fiancé have to prove to us that this is not the case. For this they will be interviewed separately about each other and the state of their relationship. If the answers don’t match, Mr. Ilnyckyj will find himself back in Canada, his fiancé will face a $250,00 fine and a prison sentence. But this shouldn’t be of anyone’s concern, if what they are stating is true.”

“Great!” Ned answers, exclamation audible. “So, when can they be interviewed? Understand that I want to have this over with rather fast. We have work to do, too. And I am sure you’re busy with more important cases anyway.”

The man looks at his watch and then eyes Andrew and Steven like they’re the plague, more than certainly not buying their charade one bit. “Monday in three weeks. Ten in the morning. Ask for Mr. Habersberger and you’ll be directed to my office.” And with that he stands up and leaves the room.  

Silence hangs between the rest of them with no one really looking at each other until Ned gets out of his seat and all but yells his congrats at Andrew and Steven, hugging them both at the same time.

It can’t get worse than that.


	2. The Agreement.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a shotgun-engagement. Andrew bends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the lovely feedback, it really means a lot! (Really, thank you, thank you, thank you!) Still figuring out the beta reader situation, so bear with me. I also think this thing will be updated every one to two weeks, probably.

To really no one’s surprise it does get worse than Ned acting like the priest to their non-existent shotgun wedding. It even manages to get worse in the same day because that’s how Andrew’s life works now. From a controlled 50 miles per hour to a 190 while blinded and hands folded. He deserves it, he supposes.

Steven and him get out of Ned’s office and before he can get Steven aside and talk to him, the hushed murmurs of the office start up once they make it back to the bullpen and towards his own office. Several of their coworkers are staring at them, just straight up and shamelessly gauging at them like they’re zoo animals jumping through burning hoops. It’s not a piece of work for Andrew to figure out that the reaction isn’t coming from them finding out he’s Canadian but rather from the faux engagement he just pushed out of his lying mouth. At this point, Steven regards him with the most angered look Andrew has ever seen on his puppy-face and it’s, well, it’s really unnerving since that never happened before.

They make it past their colleagues and to Andrew’s office without Steven ripping him a new one in front of everyone, but once the glass door closes behind them and Andrew sinks against his desk Steven steps in front of him like Jesus ready to deliver an intervention. Or cleansing. There probably were more cleansings than interventions in the Bible.

“Are you _out of your mind_ , Andrew?”

Andrew cringes, now visibly and for real, at the use of his first name in Steven’s mouth. Otherwise he doesn’t move an inch, which he’s proud of.

“I can explain this. This makes sense,” he replies evenly.

Steven now raises both of his eyebrows at him sky high, pacing through Andrew’s office like a monk climbing through Tibetan mountains and one second away from jumping Andrew and clawing at him if he’d be more barbaric.

“Please explain it to me. Please explain to me why I’ve been engaged to you for the past four months without knowing it. My tinder dates would love an explanation too,” Steven snarks, all sweetness lost.

Well, _that’s_ new too.

Andrew scratches his jaw slowly before he answers. “I am Canadian,” he begins since that’s the root of the whole issue. But he ignores Steven’s own gasping expression to continue. Just add wood to _that_ fire. “And I violated parts of my work visa while it needed to be renewed. Now, I could have faced deportation, which is an absolute no-go, okay? It’s just not going to happen.”

“It’s not going to happen,” Steven repeats Andrew’s words just like he did half an hour ago in Ned’s office.

“No, it _isn’t_. And then you came in and I realized that I have an option to stay: me being engaged and about to marry an American citizen. I’m pretty sure you can figure the rest out,” Andrew finishes, voice quiet, looking at Steven and awaiting his reaction.

Steven stops in his tracks and turns his body fully to Andrew, now right across from him at the center of the office. His ridiculous outfit is illuminated by the noon’s sun bursting through the arching windows.

“I’m your friend, Andrew, but you can’t make me do this!” he says, nearly yells, and it makes Andrew cringe again. He cringes _a lot_ today. Wow.

“Look. We nail this interview, we get married, get one of these speed divorces after a year. I stay in the country and at the company and you don’t have to worry about Ned bugging you about your relationship business,” Andrew explains. He’s got to keep calm now and try to keep Steven on his side. They admitted an engagement in front of their boss, to opt out now would make Steven look incredibly bad and Andrew even worse. Contemplating this, Andrew really needs to keep Steven on this, even if it means they’re stuck together for a year or longer.

They could do this. _He_ could. And Steven said they’re friends, so the other man could do this to. Logically speaking.

“Ned does this with everyone and you know it. Plus, he loves me. He treats me and Zach like we’re part of his family,” Steven points out, easily getting the ball from his side of the court into Andrews. “Andrew, this is _crazy_. I can’t do it.”

Andrew sighs, shoulders slumping an inch. He’s not one to play dirty ( _a total lie_ , but he likes to tell himself otherwise) but with Steven so up against the wall with this there is no other option. Not when he wants to keep his job and Andrew  _really_ wants to keep his job. More than anything else.

“I gave you the head position. Years ago. Although you had zero references in gastronomy or journalism or _any_ form of media design. You were a full-fledged chemical engineer back then, Steven,” he says, pointedly. Reminding Steven of maybe the biggest favour he ever did for anyone. Steven looks at him in suspicion. _Good_. He should be. “ _I_ gave you a chance. I talked to Ned and told him to hire you when we never hired someone out of left field. I did this, Steven. And I handed you your position on a silver plate.”

Steven’s eyes narrow some more but Andrew stays stone-cold sober, his arms crossed in front of his beige sweater in defiance as he waits for Steven to get with the program. Is it blackmailing? Probably. Do drastic times call for drastic measures? Any good movie nerd knows they do. For Andrew to pull Steven into his mess like this is totally unfair, but Steven was at the wrong place at the wrong time and they are friends, somehow, and Andrew likes him despite how little he shows it. If there’s one person he would pull this through with it’s Steven. Who he actually has a clue of knowing, which can’t be said about a lot other people in the office. Kelsey would fit into this description surely more than Steven, but he’s sure she’d rather cut his dick off than ever agree to marry him because of his own stupidity.

So Steven it will be.

“You gave the position to me because you wanted to focus on Entertainment,” Steven says.

“So?” Andrew asks, one of his eyebrows arched as he leans more of his weight on his desk. “Doesn’t make the rest of what I said less true.”

Steven huffs. “You can’t just blackmail me into this, Andrew! I know you’re a bit stoic sometimes, but you’re not a bad person!”

Andrew bites his lip, surprisingly flattered by Steven’s words in a way he hasn’t been by anything said to him in a long time, but still decides to keep up his own act. “I think I just did."

Steven glares at him, this badly executed glare of anger and impatience, and crosses the room to stop in front of Andrew. The tips of his sneakers touch Andrew’s boots and, yep, this is way too close for Andrew’s liking which is why he leans his head back, even if that entails craning his head up to look Steven in the eye.

“You can have that _food in movies_ thing you wanted to do for ages,” he says.

Steven stops, dark eyes going wide in surprise. “I, what?”

Andrew looks away, not able to keep up this much attention on another person’s whole body. It makes him uncomfortable. “Your column that you nagged me about since you made it here. Your big vision of finding out if you can create iconic movie foods at different price ranges. I’ll give it to you and not to Rie like I planned. I’ll even pitch it on our side. You can have free direction and creativity over it, too. You just need to pitch it to Ned, but since you and Zach are best friends and Ned adopted you this will be no problem, I guess.”

Steven still stares at him, like the Chinese-Malaysian owl that he is, but the suspicion drains out of his posture. That’s a good sign. “You’re serious?”

“I am. 100%,” Andrew confirms.

A few minutes of silence stretch between them in which Andrew very much looks out of his office window into the LA sunshine and traffic and Steven mulls over the offer while not making any fuss about stepping out of Andrew’s personal space. But if they have to act like they’re engaged, maybe Andrew should get used to it. To another person touching him when they want and how they want and with becoming someone that shows affection openly at work in a way that’s more than praise and a short smile. It’s not like he can’t be affectionate, it’s just that that’s pretty much part of his private life and his job is obviously not a part of that. Not that he has much of a private life to begin with where he could do PDA or anything of the sort. He has not. Not in years.

“Okay,” Steven says.

Andrew’s eyes snap back from the window to Steven’s face where a short smile is spread on his lips and it, honest to god though Andrew would deny it, saves Andrew’s whole life. Not only week. _His whole life_. He is not kidding.

“That’s. Thank you. That’s great,” he replies, coming up short with things to say.

“But I have a few conditions because if I do this, I want to have a say in it,” Steven says and Andrew makes a motion for him to go on. Not that Steven has a lot of say in the things that matter the most here like the interview and everything considering lying their asses off so Andrew can keep his Visa. But Andrew lets him do whatever he wants to in any other aspect. Can’t harm him, can it? “The column is a definite thing. Even if some part of your crazy plan goes south, I still get to do it. With the same things you promised me now, yeah?”

Andrew shrugs but nods. “Sure. Yeah. That’s fine.”

Steven’s eyes watch his face but no comment is made, instead he goes on. “We have our backstory fleshed out by the end of this week. The whole relationship. The sooner the better, so if anyone in the office asks I can say more than just how mesmerizingly green your eyes are.”

“My eyes are mesmerizing?”

“ _Not the point_. We will have this figured out is all I’m saying. I’m bad enough talking to people as it is, let’s just. Let’s make sure we don’t shoot ourselves in the back here. Also, I have full freedom over the wedding food-”

“Hey, hey. _No_ ,” Andrew butts in but Steven gives him a look, a look that says exactly ‘ _you force me to marry you, so you have to live with the consequences_ ’ and for once it shuts Andrew up very sufficiently. Turns out, Steven can be convincing if he wants to. Beneath all the layers of cream-butter smiles and hair dye. He’s an efficient and competent colleague, Andrew knows this, and he’s smart to. But to take so much charge, that’s a thing Andrew hasn’t even thought about.

Surprise, Surprise.

“Thank you. Don’t worry, it will be good. I know you,” Steven reassures him, a hand now landing on Andrew’s shoulder and squeezing it, _literally squeezing it_ in reassurance. This is all becoming a bit much. Steven has such an overbearing presence, Andrew forgot about that once he didn’t work with him directly every day.

“One last thing. I want us to stay friends after this. No matter what. We stay on good terms once this is behind us.”

An odd request, really odd, and not what Andrew would have gone with for a last request. But, then again, he knows Steven a bit and knows that Steven values personal relationships even over his work (Andrew doesn’t) and it shouldn’t be a surprise that he wants to keep this. He’s also one of Andrew’s, like, real friends and well-known colleagues around here due to their history working on the Cuisine section, so to keep this person in his corner isn’t such a bad thing. Not after they got through this rollercoaster anyway.

“Yeah, no. Of course. If that’s what you want, we can do this. _I can_.”

Steven smiles, now happier than before, and it eases some of Andrew’s own worries. The hurdles in this conversation are officially past them and Andrew found himself a fake spouse that’s willing to marry him all for the sake of the job. And some people say there aren’t good people around anymore. How wrong they are when Steven Lim is right there in morally questionable work ethic, cake flour and no idea about personal space. Really, the guy is a wish-granting factory and thank fuck for it.

“Steven?” Andrew says, raising his voice slightly although they’re still close.

“Yeah?” Steven hums out between his breaths and through his smile, like a fluffy cloud only covering the sunshine enough for himself to turn rose-golden.

“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone,” Andrew admits.

Steven’s smile doesn't fade a bit from his face as he answers, “Me neither.” He finally takes a step away from Andrew, giving him his own air and freedom back.

Their conversation seems to be over, fair and square, and now that the fronts are more clear, Andrew can feel himself relax. They’re really doing this. Steven’s really all-in for this. It is insane how easy the whole thing suddenly seems now that someone will do it with him. Compared to this the rest will be a cakewalk.

“Oh, can you come by my office tomorrow morning? So we can talk about our fake relationship before the pressing questions start to turn up. I have a meeting with the CEO of a restaurant later today,” Steven says as he’s already beginning to walk out.

Andrew nods. “Sure. Does eight work for you? The office will be relatively empty too.”

Steven’s hand is on the door handle as he flashes Andrew a smile. “Works for me,” he answers and leaves Andrew’s office without a look back.

Andrew would love to say that this is making his day easier, that this is giving him some space to breathe and to now work on the important things of his life i.e. his job and all the things he has to do to keep it. But now that he’s suddenly alone he sort of feels _crushed_ , in a way. The room still has all its oxygen but he doesn’t anymore. Not after that near disaster in Ned’s office and his conversation with Steven. That was just too much for one morning. He’s not cut out to do so much with people in one morning.

After a long lasting sigh  into his hand, Andrew gets up from his desk to walk around it and settle into his desk chair with an awfully tense set of shoulders. Starting his MacBook back up several new notifications appear on the screen in the form of red little dots and numbers rising and if he didn’t have a headache before (a miracle), he does  _now_. The world doesn’t stop just because Andrew has a crisis. Hardly. He’s an insignificant speck in the big mechanics of it all, so of course no one makes an exception for him.

He clicks on the most recent messages despite his judgement telling him better and is bombarded with several ‘ _Congrats!_ ’ from his coworkers. They’re mostly adorned with heart emojis and confetti emojis. Their sentiment, well, it’s nice but it’s not something he wants and instead of answering them he deletes all the messages without looking at them once more. Once his inbox is empty of them it feels much more like it should, he feels immediately better and starts to dig into the rest of his unread messages.

As he appoints another meeting for next Tuesday to review the game plan for the third quarter, someone barrels into his office with as much spring in her step as there is danger.

“You and Steven are not engaged,” Kelsey’s voice booms at him once the door is closed behind her.

Andrew makes a point of not looking up at her as he answers, “We are.”

She’s probably raising her eyebrow at him right now, probably huffing under her breath what a stupid idiot of a man he is being. Or is, period. She’s right there, but he can’t give her that victory so easily.

“You’re not,” she replies. “Andrew, look at me.”

And he does.

“You’re _not_.”

Her voice cuts very well the way it is intended. It’s one of her most impressive qualities and why he decided to take her with him to this job. Okay, she also threatened him to but that’s beside the point. Kelsey gets shit done around here and people to listen to her and that’s what matters. She also _does_ know everything about him. That’s why everything is running so smoothly.

To be on that opposite end of that, to have it bite him in the ass? Now that’s just karma, is it?

“We are, Kelsey.” Andrew stays resolute. “I’m sorry I kept that from you. But it’s my private life and that’s private, it’s not something anyone at work needs to know.”

Kelsey scoffs, “I know _everything_ about your life, Andrew. Even when you take a shit. I know you better than you know _yourself_. You can’t lie to me. You shouldn’t.” Her voice is softer at the end, more hurt and less tense.

Andrew wants to tell her, he does, but he knows it’s not possible. Not when there’s more than just him on the line if he fucks this up. He shakes his head. “You didn’t know this because I didn’t want you to know, Kelsey. As I said, I’m a private person.”

“We’re friends, Andrew. I’m your friend,” she points out, arms crossed in front of the black shirt she’s wearing.

“You are,” Andrew agrees, “the person I’m closest with around here, yes. But I wanted to keep this thing with Steven a secret. I didn’t want this to turn into an office romance. It’s mine and Steven’s and I wanted to keep it this way. I wanted to be sure.”

Kelsey looks at him for a long, long time without saying anything. “You’re serious about this,” she then states.

Andrew leans back in his chair, nods. “I am.”

“Does he make you happy?” she asks.

“He does,” Andrew answers without missing a beat.

Kelsey nods now, tilts her head as she regards him in his position. “Then don’t mess it up,” she says before she leaves his office the same way Steven did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's gonna realize they have a big ol' crush first? 
> 
> Also, I hope it's clear that Andrew needed some leverage against Steven in some form, so the concept still worked.


	3. The Relationship.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are answered (by Steven mostly) and Andrew freaks out some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More artistic freedom is taken. The weekend comes early with me finishing and editing this chapter. Not completely happy with this but when will I ever be? The search for a beta reader is still on since I am Picky and have anxiety, so you can still pitch in.
> 
> (I also have the outline for this story finished, which we can all celebrate with me not writing because that's what real authors do.)
> 
> Thank you for the comments, it means the world! Really!

The next morning Andrew is walking through their bullpen bleary-eyed and armed with two cups of coffee and a test example of the interview questions they have to answer in a few weeks. It’s deadly quite and eerily void without all the young people mingling around or working and editing articles, but Andrew likes it. Sometimes he gets in early to set up meetings or finish one of his deadlines and the silence is more tolerable than the hush of conversation and pressed keys. As much as he loves to chat with his coworkers, which he  _does_ , he prefers the quiet when he needs to get something done. And right now? He needs to get something done.

He can see Steven already through the glass door of his office and as Andrew approaches Steven’s head goes up and his eyes easily find Andrew’s, crinkling at their corners as he waves for Andrew to come in.

“Please tell me you got home last night and didn’t sleep here,” Andrew greets him as he closes the door behind himself. Steven’s in a different outfit than yesterday, still just as ridiculous though, so Andrew hopes he did get home at some point. Andrew left the office at six after not getting anything done and didn’t pass anyone on his way home, so he wouldn’t know.

Steven stretches his long limbs as he replies, “Oh, I did. Don’t worry, your fiancé’s as healthy as a new-born cub, if that’s what you’re worried about.” His eyes switch focus from Andrew’s face to his hands then. “Oh, is this coffee for me?”

Andrew hands the cup over. “Yeah, though it’s only black. I hope that works.” Steven takes the cup with a big nod and his trademark grin and Andrew supposes it works for the time of day.

Once Andrew put his bag onto the floor next to Steven’s and rolls one of the office chairs in the bullpen into Steven’s office to sit down next to him, he gets the stack of interview questions and moves Steven’s Macbook out of the way to put them between them. Steven eyes the whole thing critically and Andrew can’t hold it against him when he did the same thing as he got them from a woman at the immigration’s office last evening.

“If you wanted my family tree, you could have just shot me a message. I would have flown to China and got it for you,” Steven comments, dry as ever.

Andrew gives him a long hard look, communicating all his suffering through his eyes. Steven should start learning to decode all his stares if he hasn’t started that yet because Andrew communicates most of his emotions through long looks and squinted eyebrows. Saves himself some breath.

“ _Ha ha_ ,” he just says. “These are example questions for the interview we will have with the lawyer from the immigration office. I thought we’d work through these as we flesh out our love story.”

Steven looks at him out of the corner of his eye, not sure if he should be convinced by this, but picks the stack up nonetheless. He opens a random page and starts to read out loud. “When was your partner’s last vacation? Oh, that’s easy. Three years ago when you went to visit your grandparents for a week.”

“You know this?” Andrew asks, impressed.

Steven shrugs, “Yeah. That was when Kelsey nearly killed me because we just started our Chef’s In LA story and I had to take over for you to supervise it. You left us a printed note what we could and couldn’t do.”

Andrew feels his cheeks getting heated involuntarily and hopes that it’s not visible in the dim morning light. Except for Kelsey no one even cares about these things, they only care about Andrew’s capability to arrive somewhere on time and tell them what they need to do. Well, Steven isn’t like this. _Surprise,_   _surprise._

Hopefully Steven keeps his eyes on the page.

“Which scars does your partner have?” Steven reads out loud next and Andrew honestly shouldn’t feel so shocked when he answers just as swiftly again. “You’ve got one on your right biceps.”

Andrew just stares at him, which Steven takes as a sign to explain from where he got that particular knowledge. “I don’t know what caused it, but it bled heavily a few days last summer. It’s easy to spot when you wear short sleeves.”

Now Andrew ignores the heat in his face pointedly, tells himself to calm that weird knot growing in his stomach and says, as levelly as he can, “That’s true.”

Steven shrugs again, as if to say of course it is, why would I lie?

“Do you got any? I mean, scars. I’ve never seen any.” It’s just fair to ask in return. Also, Andrew doesn’t want to talk about himself anymore. Or be exposed to Steven’s collection of facts on Andrew that he seemed to have gathered in the past few years. It freaks Andrew out.

And Steven Lim wears so many layers every day. Andrew has good reason to ask this question.

“There’s one on my left hip. And one on my back that’s pretty small. Otherwise there’s nothing here, baby. _All natural_ ,” Steven answers, motioning up and down the long line of his body. His answer isn’t really helping the situation.

Andrew coughs into his hand once to chase the dryness out of his throat. “So, now that that’s settled then, we can talk about our fake relationship. There’s some questions on this on the first few pages of this thing.”

Steven agrees with him, quickly skipping through the pages until he finds the beginning of the ones that regard the history of their relationship. If they have to lie about this to a member of a federal bureau, they better get their story straight, so it doesn’t take long for them to make their way through the questions while fleshing out here and there to make it more convincing. They settle on a pretty simple story, so neither of them can lose track of it easily in the heat of the moment or when asked under pressure. They also stay as close to the truth as possible. In the end it reads like this: They met four years ago when Steven got hired, became acquaintances when they worked on starting the Cuisine section together and after two years of being colleagues, Steven asked Andrew out for the first time ( _“why did you ask me out?” “because if we’re fake together, fake you wouldn’t have had the balls to ask me out.” “what is that even supposed to mean?”_ ). Their first date was dinner at Steven’s favourite sushi place, which more or less lines up with that one time two years ago they actually went out to grab sushi together when both of them had a deadline to meet and Andrew was still involved in cuisine. It got serious about two months later, setting their anniversary around the beginning of May, which also lines up with their fake proposal. For this, Andrew got his way and has the right to be the one that proposed to Steven on their two-year anniversary. If asked, they didn’t tell anyone about their relationship or the engagement because Andrew didn’t want to and Steven has the role of the considerate boyfriend who loves him enough to sacrifice being open about it for him. Also, something about keeping it professional at work.

“What are we saying to explain why our parents didn’t know anything about this?” Steven asks as he reads the first question of the page he just turned.

“Mine are dead, so there’s that,” Andrew answers. He can see Steven’s face fall and him biting his lip, a sign that he would have taken back what he just said.

“I didn’t know. I’m sorry,” Steven tells him, warm gaze regarding Andrew with so much compassion that it’s hard to swallow.

“It’s fine. You couldn’t know this. Only Ned and Kelsey do,” he replies. He came to terms with this years ago, no need to dig it back up when the morning has been so relaxed and genuinely enjoyable. It’s fun to talk to Steven and to scheme with him, even outside of work projects, and Andrew forgot how much they’re on the same page. They’re so weirdly in tune with each other despite not even being close friends that it’s frightening. But Andrew doesn’t want to analyse it.

“Okay.” Steven nods a lot, like ten times in a row as if to convince himself that it really _is_ okay. “Okay. Uhm. My parents don’t know about us, which usually isn’t the case when I’m with someone. But I can say that we just wanted to take it slow and keep it on the downlow. Because work relationships and all that. My mom won’t be thrilled but she will understand.”

Andrew suddenly notices how close they sit together. Their shoulders touch whenever one of them moves and the interview stack is spread out in the space between where Steven’s arm is put on his desk and where Andrew’s other shoulder leans against the other end. When Steven breathes out, Andrew can feel it against his own body, he can feel every little movement Steven does like it’s his own. They just naturally gravitated towards each other because Andrew can’t remember sitting this wedged together when he sat down. Maybe it happened when they were hunched over the questions and argued about who fake-proposed to whom.

He notices belated that he should say something about Steven’s family situation. Probably that he’s sorry he got Steven into this mess and that he has to lie to his parents. But the moment is already gone, so Andrew files it away for later after he went through his own number of unpleasant phone calls.

Steven is back to reading more questions anyway.

“On which side of the bed does your partner sleep? But we don’t live together, so thi-“

“Maybe you should move in with me,” Andrew hears himself say instead of bestowing condolences to Steven’s mother and he wants to shove nails into his mouth the moment the words left it.

Big, brown eyes look at him. They look at him in  _shock_ and bewilderment and don’t blink for a good thirty seconds. Steven is making a show of his hand leaving its grip on the page he had opened and letting it flop onto the desk while still staring at Andrew in resemblance of how he did yesterday in Ned’s office. No, it grows more and more into the same way he did yesterday in that office when Andrew obliged him into this stupid thing. And now Andrew is pushing him into another stupid thing. Oh god, he should have just shut the fuck up and let Steven muse about their living situation. That’s what he should have done instead of barreling in with another idiotic idea.

“You know, when that lawyer comes to check on me unannounced. So, our cover can stay intact and none of us will be jobless.”

Steven still just stares and at this point Andrew gets alarmed. Is Steven having a seizure? Is he dying? Andrew couldn’t put it on his conscience if he _killed_ him. Canadians don’t kill people. Canadians don’t kill sweet Americans. Andrew doesn’t kill Steven. Or _anyone_. He waves his hand in front of Steven’s face, who finally snaps out of his trance and now fixes his eyes directly on Andrew’s.

“Forget what I said. It was just an idea-“

“No, no. Let’s do this,” Steven now interrupts him. The arm that isn’t on his desk found its way around Andrew, sitting comfortably on the top of his chair and his shoulder and it’s just so in character for Steven, always tactile and upbeat Steven, that Andrew nearly forgets that he usually doesn’t like people touching him so candidly.

“Wait. Seriously?” He asks, his face turned so far around that he can only see Steven.

Steven nods with a smile on his face once more. He does that a lot, Andrew realizes, that nodding and smiling. So motivated, so ready for everything. So open with himself.

So unlike Andrew.

Them. _Living together_. He didn’t even think about this idea. Just said some words that made up a sentence to save his own skin once more, to minimize the chance of this going wrong, of him fucking his life up even more.

He didn’t plan this in any way and now Steven agreed to it. Holy shit. What the hell?

“We’re already fake-engaged. And my way to work will be shorter, so why not?” Steven adds, still smiling at Andrew and Andrew can’t help but feel better through this smile. Through seeing Steven so on board with this. Not that he has much choice anyway, _but still_.

“Okay.” Andrew says.

Not only does he have a fake relationship, he now got himself a new roommate as well. He really didn’t think this through.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a gemini, so I naturally need validation to thrive and survive. And I am always up for you yelling at me in the comments about anything. Otherwise I'd recommend the new Panic! At The Disco song and Vacation from Superfruit. Both hits for the LGBT community in their own right.
> 
> Prepare yourself for an iconic special guest in the next chapter!


	4. The Mechanisms.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steven cooperates. Andrew's trying, part four. Also, say hello to a special guest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first four chapters were really more or less serving as an introduction and to set things up. From now on the chapters will include, well, more. (wow @ me) The semester starts next week, so if updates will be less frequent, that's why!
> 
> Thank you so, so much for the comments and kudos. It means a ton, a big big ton. I love you.

The days counting up to the weekend were spent with answering the pressing questions their co-workers had about their engagement and dodging Ned and his excitement about their wedding whenever Andrew left his office. It was also spent with organizing a storage room where Steven’s furniture could be stored while he will live with Andrew and talking to several car rental companies to get a van that would fit all of the stuff Steven would take with him. Unfortunately, Andrew couldn’t put this onto Kelsey since that would make her too suspicious, so it was him who was violating his work hours and his phone bill to take care of this. Steven, apparently, was out of town from Thursday to Saturday for a Food Network taping and Andrew envied him immensely for having a valid reason to flee the hell that became their office once the news about their relationship broke. Fake it may be, the gushing he had to endure very much makes it feel as real as it can be.

Sunday is the breather he so desperately needed after the past days of office-appropriate PDA (a lot of elbow touching and standing close together it turns out, so not that different to Steven’s usual behaviour around him) and the holes Kelsey burned into him with her eyes.

He’s in his apartment, waiting for Steven to arrive with all his belongings, and is currently on the phone with his grandparents, explaining to them in short and easy terminology that he is engaged and about to marry a co-worker and _a man no less_. His grandmother seems to be thrilled that he at least “is not a bachelor anymore”, which is ridiculous, and his grandfather’s reaction is as fine as it is expected: a little quiet but not openly homophobic.

It’s the little things, he supposes.

The doorbell rings right after he put his phone onto the kitchen counter and Andrew lets out a rush of air that has been building in his stomach since the phone has been pressed to his ear. He walks the short distance to his front door, buzzes Steven in without checking and waits at his opened door until he can see the head of silver-dyed hair come into his view. Steven is carrying a backpack Andrew has seen him use for work travels, as well as a duffel bag and a suitcase, his breath audible after the flight of stairs he had to walk up here. Andrew walks out of his door but not before closing it and down the last flight of stairs to take Steven’s suitcase from him to ensure that he will make it through Andrew’s door before he collapses.

“You made it,” Andrew greets him, his hand finding its way to Steven’s arm naturally, steadying him as his shoulder swings dangerously towards the wall.

“Yeah. Just nearly died in the traffic on my way here,” Steven replies, his breathing still loud as they climb the last stairs and Andrew lets go of him to open the door again and let him in. “It’s a Sunday, people really should be more considered of – wait, _you have a cat_!?”

Steven is so elated by the fact, screeching noises coming out of his mouth now that he foregone all human conversations at the sight of Andrew’s roommate.

As Andrew puts the suitcase by the door, he sees Steven crouched down on the floor, duffel bag and backpack and all, already holding the cat against his face and nuzzling his nose in the fur. It is an odd scene to watch since no one ever reacted to the animal so strongly and lovingly in such an instant. His grandparents tolerate it, are glad that Andrew isn’t ‘all alone’ in his flat and Kelsey doesn’t hate it but also doesn’t act the love she has for it out like Steven does. It’s cute to watch, if Andrew is honest with himself. To see a grown man so _overly excited_ over a simple pet he just met.

If he’s honest with himself, he was worried what would happen once Steven meets his cat. If they would get along or if Andrew had to put one of them (Steven, who is he kidding) onto the street because of a failed chemistry reading. But as Steven now turns around, cat still tucked in his arms and the animal happily lapping at his neck with short strokes of its tiny, pink tongue all the worries vanish. He wonders for a moment how he could even hold the belief that Steven and any existing being wouldn’t get along, least of all one that belonged to _Andrew himself_.

“Is it a she or he? What’s their name?” Steven asks, big brown eyes glistening with pure joy.

Andrew shrugs, trying to bite his smile away before it can take up his face. “I never bothered with a name and as far as the vet said the cat is male, but she responds more to when I refer to her as a She. Picked her up from the street after I moved here a few years ago and she only ever responded to that.”

Steven looks down at the cat, his hair a surprising similar shade as its fur. “So, you’re ‘she’? I just gonna call you this. She Ilnyckyj. We can do this, we already get along, don’t we?” he speaks to the cat, voice soft as he smiles at her.

“I got to tell you, this is the coolest cat ever. God, I would have never seen you as a pet-person. This is so _cool_.” Steven keeps on gushing as the he and She now both look at Andrew with two pairs of dark eyes. It’s startling but also about the cutest thing Andrew has ever seen in his life.

“She isn’t a pet. More like a …. roommate. She has her space, I have mine. We get along well,” Andrew explains lamely.

“But you feed her?” Steven states.

“No, she hunts in the jungles, Steven,” Andrew deadpans, rolling his eyes for good measure. But there’s no heat there, he is still too caught in the scene he’s looking at.

Steven’s answer is a watered-down version of his already weak mean glare before his attention is back on Andrew’s cat. She’s tiny paws are clawing at the fabric of his jacket, trying to make a hole in them, but all Steven does is set her further up his shoulder, so she can claw through his clothes there. It doesn’t really make sense, but they seem to understand each other. Maybe they should get married with how well they get along from the get-go.

Since Andrew doesn’t have it in him to break this new friendship apart, he just steps forward to touch Steven’s arm again to get his attention. “Let me just take your things. So you don’t need to carry them around any longer.”

The duffel bag gets transferred into his hands first and fairly easy, but backpack is trickier with Steven not wanting to let go off She. They make it possible somehow with a lot of shimmying and tugging and She ending up squished against both their chests as Andrew tries to get the second strap off Steven’s shoulder. It takes another bit of wrestling and Andrew pointedly _avoiding_ eye-contact to separate Steven from his backpack, but once Andrew has it on his own shoulder and the other bags in his hands it gets a lot easier to look at Steven again. Or to turn around and leave him in the small hallway, which is Andrew’s way of dealing with the awkwardness of this. Also, because he puts all of Steven’s stuff in the bedroom.

“Are we sharing a bedroom?”

Andrew’s whole body flinches. He hasn’t heard Steven following him into the room but as he turns around there he is standing in the doorway, looking around the room in curiosity and interest. There’s not much to see though, because Andrew’s bedroom is what it says on the tin: a room with a bed in it, accompanied by a wardrobe and nightstands. It’s rather simple.

“ _Jesus_ , don’t scare me like that again,” he addresses Steven as his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths.

Steven’s eyes turn soft and apologetic. “Oh, sorry. I thought you wanted me to follow you,” he explains as he steps into the room and hovers right in front of Andrew. “So, are we?” he reminds Andrew of his actual question.

No luck in wishing Steven would have forgotten what he asked Andrew, no luck in wishing to avoid this. No, with Steven it is always directly into the territory that Andrew would rather avoid, some sick sort of shock therapy. Andrew remembers that he didn’t think this through till the end, _he really didn’t_.  This whole affair is just going to test him until he either breaks or conquers and Andrew has no idea yet what outcome he’ll get.

“I thought that you could take the bed and I can sleep on the couch in the living room,” is his verdict on the sleeping arrangement.

Of course, _of course_ , Steven shakes his head, She turning her head to look where the sudden movements against her are coming from and Andrew can relate. His inner self is reacting in a similar way to what he is seeing, just as startled as his cat by this.

What is Steven thinking?

“We can share the bed,” Steven says as he shakes his head. As Andrew looks at him in disbelief he points towards the flat surface of the mattress before he adds, “It’s big enough for the both of us and then we don’t have to explain to Mr. Habersberger why we don’t share one when we’re supposedly engaged and happily together.”

Okay, so Steven _is_ thinking but does he think about _them_? About what this means for the two of them? Andrew hasn’t shared his space with anyone that wasn’t his cat in over three years, it’s not like it’s easy for him to suddenly start now. He can’t just drop all his dispositions towards other people at the drop of a hat just because his own lie wants him to. Not even with Steven.

“You don’t look convinced,” Steven points out.

Yeah, Andrew’s dead-silent response seems to convey more than his words ever could. But Steven’s looking at him with such a sour face, so bummed about this for no reason that Andrew could fathom at the top of his head. Which doesn’t stop his head from going the extra mile to make him feel bad about his resolve, which, good, is justified considering that the single reason Steven is _even_ _here_ was his doing and he should probably not work against any idea that helps him. He should be glad that Steven is on the same page as him and thinks about this stuff when Andrew’s own brain is too busy yelling at him to stop watching his new house-guest and his cat interact.

“No, you’re right,” Andrew disagrees. “It would be easier for us too and, I mean, as long as you don’t have a problem-“

“I don’t have a problem!” Steven interjects, his face returning to its usual sunny state. “Really, I don’t. I’m fine with this. A-Okay.”

Now it is Andrew who’s not completely convinced. He raises one of his eyebrows as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You’re sure about this?” he asks.

Steven nods. “I am,” he repeats himself. “As long as you don’t snore, I’ll manage.”

Andrew laughs, completely caught off guard by Steven’s conditions that it just bubbles out of him in a short burst that makes him squeeze his eyes shut and show his teeth. It’s not pretty and surely weirds Steven out, but as Andrew opens his eyes again once he calms down he can see Steven’s shy smile as his brown eyes take the moment in. But it doesn’t feel unsettling to Andrew’s surprise, not how it usually would when he’s so unguarded with his emotions in front of someone. For some reason he feels safe to be this open around Steven. To just laugh at random things or tell him about his parents even if it is in an offhand-comment that couldn’t counted as a confession on any scale but still feels necessary and better than not saying it. Maybe it’s because Steven is so open with himself in front of everyone. Andrew can’t even remember a time when Steven wasn’t the one guy that _always_ talked about his weekend or his day when everyone else talked quarter goals and numbers at meetings or when he didn’t rattle on about a chef he met or what he tried to cook for dinner the night before, chatting with everyone and consoling anyone who needed or not needed his help at work. Steven just walked up to people and became friends with them. It’s so unlike Andrew, who always kept to himself at work (except for Kelsey) and while he had the reputation to be dependable and loyal and naturally up for most things, it wasn’t like he was on first-name basis with everyone in the bullpen. No, that’s _Steven_ and not him.

These lines are beginning to change, though, even after only a few days back in Steven’s orbit. Maybe at the end of all this, in a year, the lines will be so blurred that Andrew won’t know where his social circle begins and where Steven’s ends.

Or maybe not. Maybe nothing will change once Andrew’s on his own again. Maybe he’s just overreacting.

He’s probably just overreacting.

“Hey, you laughed!” Steven tells him as if Andrew hasn’t been hung up on his own behaviour for a solid minute.

“I did,” he still answers, again avoiding any eye-contact. He knows that Steven’s smiling anyway, no need to need visual confirmation when his bedroom floor doesn’t make him suddenly be open with his feelings. “And I don’t snore.”

Steven’s answer is a solemn “ _Great!_ ” that’s still too excited for Andrew to accept and then he puts She down on the left side of the bed, the one that is close to the window and is usually place for Andrew’s Macbook on the weekends. Without further ado he unpacks his bags, rummaging around Andrew’s bedroom like he’s been living in it for years as he puts his clothes into the free space, filling all the voids that Andrew’s loneliness has left in his wardrobe and shelves. Ridiculous items of clothing and several stacks of books find their places and once Steven is done in the bedroom, he migrates to the living room. He pokes and looks around, finding empty spots where he puts his own Macbook and papers, a small stack of novels that look so worn and used that Andrew isn’t sure they’re not from a library.

Once he looks around for the bathroom and vanishes inside of it after Andrew points it out to him, Andrew decides to not supervise him there but to take care of a dinner they definitely need after the afternoon full of unpacking (and the weight of nerves he still carries around in dread for the upcoming night). He wipes up some roasted vegetables since his fridge is empty otherwise, but as Steven comes back into the kitchen and peaks over Andrew’s shoulder as he puts the food on two plates he’s so excited that Andrew stops feeling bad about the lack of variation in his kitchen.

They eat in relative silent, Andrew answering questions Steven has about the apartment while She’s sitting at Steven’s feet during the whole ordeal, finding her new best friend in Andrew’s colleague. After cleaning the dishes together and then taking turns in the bathroom, the two of them find themselves at the point Andrew couldn’t stop worrying in the past hours: both lying at the opposite ends of Andrew’s bed while looking up at the wall above their heads. Well, Andrew does so, one of his feet dangling out of the duvet and onto the floor. He’s pretty sure that Steven is more relaxed if the rustling and the constant dips in the mattress are anything to go by. The shared duvet also isn’t stretched between them, so he’s probably lying somewhere in the middle of the bed like any normal person would. Like Andrew would if he wouldn’t be so damn concerned with overstepping some line.

“You can come closer, you know. I’m not going to molest you in your sleep,” Steven murmurs into the darkness between them and as Andrew looks over his eyes are closed but his face is turned towards Andrew. His voice is rough and he seems to be on the verge of drifting off and if Andrew would have his way, he would just wait until Steven is asleep and then gather his things to sleep on the couch. But he has the distinct feeling that this wouldn’t go over well in the morning.

“C’mon, Andrew,” Steven keeps on, his arm now flailing into Andrew’s direction until his hand hits Andrew in the shoulder. “You’re so far away, you’re not even in LA anymore.”

“ _Ha ha_ ,” Andrew replies dryly, but before Steven can give him a black eye he moves away from the edge of the bed and towards the middle, rearranging his pillow too until he’s comfortable and only a few inches away from Steven. “Better?”

Andrew is weirdly relieved that Steven doesn’t open his eyes as he mumbles a “better” into his pillow.  But once Steven is fast asleep next to him Andrew can’t find sleep himself, his green eyes watching Steven’s body move in his bed until the sun comes up instead.

 When his alarm clock reads 6:40 and Steven starts to stir next to him, he gets up quietly and leaves the room to get ready, not able to face the intimacy the situation would entail once they would be both awake next to each other. So, he showers and shaves and then he gets into the kitchen to prepare simple breakfast both of them can eat before they have to get to work. It’s quiet in the apartment, only She purring at his feet and annoying him until he scoops her up to cradle her in the crook of his arm while he opens a new can of cat food for her. It’s a morning like any other day of the week, him and his cat side by side in the kitchen eating while Andrew scrolls through his phone to check the mails that gathered in his inbox over the weekend.

Only when he hears steps in the hallway and the opening and closing of doors the idyllic setting is disturbed and reminds him of what he tried to sneak away from. His fake-engagement. Another day of acting like he’s madly in love with Steven on a level that convinces Kelsey too. He rests his head in his hands, sighing as She’s now tapping over to him to sit at his feet.

“What have I gotten myself into, hmmm?” he asks her, hand reaching out to scratch her head.

She just blinks at him and leans into his touch, not really helping him or giving him an answer. Not that he thought his cat would help him out.

“Why do I even ask you? You like him already, don’t you?” he says then, more to himself than to the animal, and registers faintly that the shower’s now running.

What he registers more easily is the knock on his door, She skitting away from him in her usual uncertainty towards strangers and noise (not fear, he’s fairly sure She isn’t afraid of anything). He looks into the hallway, but the bathroom door is still closed, so he heads to open the door himself. Probably just a neighbour who locked themselves out or who forgot something on their way to work. Sometimes it happens that someone does that, knocks on the flat closes to them and asking him for help.

But when Andrew opens the door, it’s not a neighbour.

“Mr. Habersberger?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Validate me, love me, yell at me or just, idk, tell me how your day was. I hope it was good. Also, watch the boys's new video, they're trying vegan food and we are all Living for it. Capital L and all.


	5. The Surprise.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew's in a headlock with himself. The past comes back to hit him square on the nose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> College started and as thought it's really eating me up, so that's why updates take longer! Also I wrote and edited this on two long train rides, so if this reeks with errors, blame it on the toddlers yelling two seats away from me.

They’re sitting across from each other in the small living room, Andrew in the middle of his couch and Keith Habersberger in an armchair on the other end of the coffee table, doing something Andrew would consider small talk if he would be able to do it and if Habersberger wouldn’t have the constant look of a vulture out for dead meat in his eyes. The coffee cup cradled between his hands isn’t doing much to reduce the vibe he’s giving off. Or, well, it’s not doing much for Andrew. He’s sure Mr. Habersberger isn’t usually acting like this, all pinched eyebrows and glasses ridiculously low on his nose as he asks Andrew about his work and his weekend.

Andrew’s sure Mr. Habersberger is a great guy beneath all the leverage he has against Andrew if he would uncover the colossal lie Andrew’s spinning to stay in the country. (Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, _what a joke_.) At least that’s what he’s telling himself as he’s nodding along to the man’s story about the barbecue he invited his friends to over the weekend. His own coffee sits cold in the mug on the table in front of him since he lost all appetite the moment he opened the door. Cold sweat will do this to one in the morning.

“We’re not different, you and I,” the guy then says, and Andrew literally _forces_ his teeth into his tongue to stop himself from disagreeing immediately and rudely. He was raised better than to just lash out. His late parents don’t deserve him flipping a man of the state off for a stupid thing he said.

“I don’t know about that,” he replies, shrugging in the most nonchalant way he can manage.

His act can only go so far, Andrew thinks, while he tries to buy time until Mr. Habersberger will finally leave and he can get back to his actual plan of getting to work. It’s already clear that he won’t make it on time and neither will Steven, but thanks to the immigration office employees’ presence he can’t even contact Kelsey to cancel the meeting he’d have at Nine. The easy-going smugness he’s conveying is starting to run out the longer Mr. Habersberger is talking to him, slowly but surely driving Andrew insane.

“Ah, sometimes it takes a little _digging_ , doesn’t it?” Mr. Habersberger says, voice casual and amused.

It is not hard for Andrew to get that the guy isn’t meaning their similar character alignments, but as on cue he can hear a door opening behind him, which makes the growing worry about this going south before he could even decide on a wedding venue vanish in an instant, like a rush of air leaving his whole body. He’s smiling before he can help it, at first at the man sitting across from him and then over his shoulder.

Steven is walking up to them, dressed in slacks and a simple grey t-shirt and hair impeccably styled as always, and it just adds to Andrew’s smile, makes it more honest. For some inane reason he can’t depict he’s never been gladder to see his co-worker right now. “

“Morning,” Steven mumbles as he stops at the arm of the couch Andrew’s sitting on and without missing a beat leans down to peck Andrew on the forehead. And then the cheek. A slow grin is spreading on his face as he moves back up and out of Andrew’s space to shake Mr. Habersberger’s hand in a less intimate hello and if he’s confused by the man’s presence he doesn’t let it show.

He’s _so good_ and _natural_ at it that Andrew’s shocked for a second. The brushing of Steven’s lips on his skin isn’t helping the roller coaster of his mind either. Neither does Steven sitting down next to him, so close that their thighs and shoulders are touching, and he leans his weight against Andrew’s body.

“Andrew, what is Mr. Habersberger doing here?”

Steven asks so casually and full of feigned innocence that Andrew nearly chokes on his own spit before answering, “I don’t know. He wanted to see us.” He has the inkling to reply with ‘ _holding us off from going to work and breaching the privacy an individual is allowed to have by law in this country_ ’ wouldn’t be his best way in this whole affair when the man is sitting two feet away from them.

“I just wanted to check in with you. I think it was said that unannounced visits will be happening in the time until your actual interview. You know, just to make sure that we’re not seeing another sham wedding happening right under our nose,” the man himself answers then, his disgusting faux politeness still at play.

“Well,” Steven replies, smiling at him sweetly and Andrew realizes it’s one of those bullshit smiles instead of the sunny ones Steven usually shares, _the real ones_. “We need to get to work, so I hope this isn’t taking too long.”

“It won’t,” Mr. Habersberger replies. “Just here to ask a few questions and then I’m out of the door. It will only take minutes of your day.”

Unlike his words, it takes more than a few minutes. Andrew wonders if this is the scheduled interview already or just some interlude, born out of Mr. Habersberger’s lingering suspicion. The man seems to take a sick sense of pleasure of seeing them squirm under his scrutiny and burning gaze, but they’re dodging any fatal bullet with their rehearsed story, Andrew more than grateful that they spent that one morning hashing everything out until it’s been leak-proof. He can only imagine what a disaster this would have been if they both were unprepared or, God forbid the thought, he would have slept on the couch when the man knocked. He wouldn’t have a clue how to explain this in a way that wouldn’t blow their cover in an instant.

Seeming satisfied with their answers to his questions about the early stages of their relationship Habersberger’s starting to pry into their family history and their backgrounds. Andrew recalls what the man already has in his database, the death of his parents and the whereabouts of his grandparents and if Steven is surprised about the latter he doesn’t show it, only chiming in to mention Andrew’s last vacation to visit them, keeping his role as the knowing fiancé spotless. The hands curled around Andrew’s upper arm and the proximity between him and Steven probably add to the picture, painting them a scenery of the domestic couple as Andrew willingly leans into his co-worker’s lean frame after the comment, trying his damnedest at a convincing smile.

“So, Mr. Lim, you’re from Ohio, right?” Mr. Habersberger asks while readjusting his glasses, only strengthening to the Bond villain vibe he’s got going on. But Steven nods, recounting the tale of his upbringing in a Chinese-Malaysian-American household and with his parents, throwing some fragments in that Andrew recognizes as bits of stories Steven shared in conversations around the office. Andrew’s not surprised that he can remember them and can even put a timestamp on it, remembering all these encounters vividly, since his brain has been keeping track of Steven ever since the chemical engineer turned up in their building and put his foot down about wanting the job he now had. Persistent from the start, no wonder he nestled himself into Andrew’s brain like a needle into a vein, drawing blood ever since.

Mr. Habersberger doesn’t write anything down and doesn’t comment on Steven’s upbringing, which Andrew is grateful for. The prodding questions are already enough as it is and while Steven is handling this like the champ he is, Andrew can also feel him become more and more frigid next to him, body curling closer to the cushions and to Andrew and away from the man across from them. Steven may be up for most things and he’s the friendliest guy you’ll know, but once he’s drained he is; Andrew remembering an instant early on in their work starting Cuisine, when Steven would just vanish after meetings or hour-long development sessions to get a breather and to recharge, the social interaction having wrung him out. The same thing seems to be happening right now. And considering the lack of coffee, Steven’s tolerance seems to be lower than usual.

“We will see my parents in two weeks,” Steven says, nonchalantly but for people who know him the bite underneath is audible. He’s straining his words to be friendly and Andrew is currently straining his ears to make sure he hasn’t imagined that.

“Oh?” Mr. Haberberger’s eyebrows rise, suddenly intrigued. “Isn’t that right before your scheduled interview?”

Steven tilts his head, considering the man’s words for a moment before answering, “Yeah, but it was scheduled before this interview came up and we won’t just _change_ our plans.”

Andrew’s proud of Steven’s persistence and zero-bullshit tolerance right now. He’s known Steven as one of the few people who always took his free days to visit his parents, genuinely excited at the prospect to spend time in his childhood home, even if it’s only a day or two. While one could catch the sour expression on his face when his mother calls him in the middle of a workday, it doesn’t change the fact that Steven does love his family and likes to share his life with them. A sharp stab at Andrew’s throat, which he registers as guilt at the thought of putting himself into the equation, of taking this from Steven as well. But he can’t let this show now, not when Mr. Habersberger still looks at them and Steven’s hands on him become a steel grip, own muscles seizing against the fabric of his sweater and the other man’s palm.

“Yes,” Andrew agrees belated, covering it up with heavy nodding on his part. God, he’s blowing this by the minute. “We’re flying to Ohio.”

“On Friday,” Steven says.

“On Friday,” Andrew repeats.

“And we’ll be back in time for the interview, so you don’t need to worry,” Steven adds, his brain cells now the ones still intact while Andrews decided to jump ship again. They seem to do that a lot, these days. Whenever Steven springs another thing on him that renders him speechless or just generally confused. Most times, it’s confusion. It’s only been a week and he’s _so_ confused. He’s never been so confused in his life.

“Well,” Mr. Habersberger says and claps his hand together, air of finality hanging over the end of their pregnant silence. “I got everything I needed, gentlemen. You can get your merry way and I can go mine. I will see you in a few weeks.” All of them get up, Steven reluctantly, and there’s shaking of hands and a clap on Andrew’s shoulder that he could have gone without. But once the apartment door is back in its hinges, he feels a sudden sense of peace like he’s never known before.

Steven sits at the edge of the couch, She lying with her head rested on his thigh when Andrew returns into the living room. “So, Ohio?” he asks, walking closer to stop in front of Steven, lowering himself on the edge of his coffee table, carefully balancing his weight for it to not topple over.

“Oh, yeah,” Steven nods, brown eyes that are usually so readily looking at him now avoiding the contact. “I wanted to tell you this but Mr. Important-Lawyer sort of came in between.” Andrew wheezes at the nickname, but Steven just shrugs, one hand carding through the fur on She’s head. Now in the morning light, Andrew notices that it’s a shade lighter than Steven’s hair colour. “My Mom called when I got out of the shower, reminded me about the family dinner and I, well, sort of told her I’d bring someone along.”

“Does she know it’s me?” Andrew asks, sensing how delicate this topic must be for Steven and for his mother.

Another shrug, but Andrew can see the line of Steven’s shoulders tense for a second before they relax again. His reply still sounds like he’s chewing on nails, though. “Sort of? I didn’t tell her I was engaged, just that I’d bring a partner and that it’s a colleague.”

“So, she doesn’t know you’re bringing a man?” Andrew drags on, wanting to make sure that he didn’t destroy Steven’s family with his sheer presence.

Steven sighs heavily, but he’s finally looking at Andrew. His gaze feels like a twenty-store building dropped onto Andrew, all heavy and tired, the bubbly disposition from this morning nowhere to be found. “She knows I’m gay, Andrew. I’m sure she can figure the rest out by herself without me telling her.”

Andrew sobers up quickly, uncrossing his arms to put a hand on Steven’s shoulder. It lands a bit higher than planned, fingers splaying over the fabric of his button-up and grazing his jaw, but the palm stays in safer territory. Steven’s usually calming down through physical contact and Andrew hopes this does the trick and will reassure him, even if the touch alone feels a bit inappropriate. “I’m here,” he says quietly. “You already do a lot for me and if I can help you, even if that means to listen to you vent, then I can do that.”

Brown eyes turn kinder, tense muscles now growing softer again and Andrew can even see a hint of Steven’s trademark smile return to his face. Now, that’s a start. That looks better, Andrew muses to himself, his own spirit elevated by his success in cheering Steven up.

“Yeah.” Steven nods, gaze steady as he looks at Andrew.

The moment stretches on, Andrew’s hand staying where it is as he’s drinking in the return of Steven’s good mood while the dark eyes keep his entirely engaged in their little staring contest. She’s purring quietly beside them and for the first time since this train wreck of a mess started Andrew has the feeling he has the right person for this by his side.

*

They make up for their lateness at work with being extra early the next day, Steven driving and parking his car into a nearly empty parking lot, only Ned’s car already there but only because their boss likes to be early, has made a whole point of being the first person in the office, when not the last. Andrew refrained from mentioning his employee’s overnighters several times, thinking that crushing Ned’s only sense of authority would not help him, especially not in the current stage of their friendship.

The office is as empty as the parking lot, the bullpen’s usually whirring sound of technology just as absent as the morning Andrew came into Steven’s office last week. The quiet is appreciated just like the last time and after getting themselves a mug of steaming coffee each, they part at Andrew’s office but not without promising each other to at least clock out at the same time and Steven bowing down to press a short kiss to Andrew’s temple before vanishing down the hall. Andrew watches him leave transfixed, rooted to floor like the cliché he is and it’s his own luck that no one is there to see him standing in front of his own office for way too long. After he finally gets out of his daze that consisted of a repetition of the word ‘Steven’ over and over for two minutes he quietly slips into his office and spends the rest of his morning rewriting the concept proposal Ryan sent him over the weekend because he can’t focus at all. It should be stupid, to hang himself up over a simple gesture of affection, but it somehow hammers the last week home for him. And what it also does is let feelings resurface he buried two years ago.

His stupid crush on Steven has died down through pure neglect and stubbornness, wasting away in the corner of his mind after they stopped working together constantly and it has been good this way. He has been fine with this, nearly something he’d consider happy. But now Steven is back in his space, like the menace of affection that he _is_. And Andrew can’t reveal this to anyone, not even Kelsey ( _sure as hell_ not Kelsey) and just as little can he reveal this to Steven. In no way can he let Steven catch onto that little crush that’s making a comeback. Also, Andrew prays that it will eventually die down in the next weeks, after the wedding _at least_ , since he doesn’t plan on confronting it. It will die. It has to. He will make sure of it. And he will make sure that it happens before anybody notices. He’s good at ignoring his feelings or just neglecting them instead of fostering them like other people do, so this can’t be hard. And he managed to succeed _once_ already, it surely won’t be too hard to kill the warmth that starts to return to him whenever Steven is in sight, whenever he is close.

Somehow, in the whirlwind of his current life it all came back, crawling out of the dumpster Andrew has shoved his infatuation with Steven into to rot forever. Not in the two years of silence, of blissful coexistence when he should technically have had all the time in the world to develop this sort of feelings. No, it comes back _now_ , at the most inconvenient time of all. He’s supposed to marry Steven; he _will_ marry Steven, even if the sky comes crashing down. It’s just … not helping him that it evoked everything he shoved so far into oblivion. Like someone taking the wool off his eyes after throwing him into the sea.

And it’s only been a little over a week. They haven’t even _needed_ to prove anything, really. How is he supposed to make it through a year with this on the backburner?

Like he gets through everything is the obvious answer that tries to soothe the sting of his own stupidity. Andrew’s going to convince himself it’s not real until it isn’t real anymore, until it can’t bother him anymore, until he’s back to square one: living like he never had a crush on Steven Lim to begin with. It’s possible. He reminds himself several times that this is possible to do, ignoring the pressing deadline that’s hammering into his existential crisis home from the back of his head (and as a visual addition the front of his MacBook screen).

He’s 27. He shouldn’t feel so helpless in a situation he got himself into all by himself. He should be in charge of this. He should have this figured out. He should know what to do, at least a little bit. _Fuck_. Why does he suddenly feel like a 17-year-old again? What, one kiss on his cheek and a promise to leave work together and he’s losing his goddamn mind? That’s low. That’s pathetic. That would make him laugh out loud if, say, Annie would come to him and tell him something like that. Or if Zach would come to bother him about whatever inane Tinder date he had now. And that’s where the problem lies, at its core: that this is not something that happens to Andrew. He only witnesses these meltdown, he’s not on par with letting them happen to _him_.

These things just don’t happen to him, period.

“Oh, I thought I’d find both of you here.”

Not bothering with knocking, Ned nearly sends Andrew down onto the floor and toppling out of his office chair with how surprised he is by the sudden noise, by someone talking. He’s been so inside of his head that he completely zoned out of his surroundings, which now makes him slap a hand on his desk surface to steady himself from actually slipping out of his seat.

“Fuck. Ned, _can’t_ you knock? There’s a door for a reason,” Andrew replies, a little breathless from the shock that’s still vibrating through him.

Ned shrugs, like he can’t be bothered with Andrew’s reasoning, probably _reasoning_ to _himself_ that his position as the boss of the company allows him to let his employees slash friends die of a near heart attack. But when Andrew meant for something to put him out of his little fling with misery he didn’t mean the long-term solution. Surprisingly, his death wish couldn’t manifest itself yet. (Unlike Shane and Ryan, for example, who still seek each other’s company for whatever unfathomable reason since they’re constantly at each other’s throat, but Andrew takes pride in _not_ being like his colleagues.)

Andrew can see Zach and Eugene on both sides of his office door, Eugene strategically placed so he can chat to Kelsey and Zach placed clumsily enough to be in Andrew’s direct line of sight. If this is supposed to be an intervention of some sorts they staged it badly to begin with.

“I’m still waiting for you to forward Ryan’s pitch,” Ned says instead of saying hi or answering Andrew. But it’s not scary or stern since Ned’s too ridiculously good-natured to ever come across like that.

Andrew raises an eyebrow. “That’s not what you’re here for, Ned,” he states and then adds, “but you’ll have it in your inbox by the end of the day.” He wants to stay in Ned’s good graces, no matter what the stunt in his office last week did to him.

Ned nods, a happy smile on his face. Then he leans forward, both hands put on Andrew’s desk in the most dramatic fashion ever demonstrated, a clear sign he’s hanging around Eugene and Zach too much, and stares directly into Andrew’s face. (Does this already count as inappropriate work-place behaviour?)

“You’re free on Friday evening,” he states, finger now pointing at Andrew.

Andrew leans back in his chair, his other eyebrow now moving along with the first to stay plastered as high as they can both go. This is getting weirder by the second. As the past days go, his have been pushing it, a lot. It’s like his life has turned into comic relief for everyone but him. He’s sure if Steven would be here, he’d be snickering into the palm of his hand, or worse, _out loud_.

 “I’m not?” Andrew answers, despite the reality tv show feeling this whole situation is giving him. “I have a meeting with Annie and then Sara asked me to be on set and-“

 His recalling of his week’s schedule gets stopped by Ned’s finger that turns into a full hand held up into his face, accompanied by a long sigh from Ned. They’re really all rubbing off on each other, huh. “No, you’re not.

“I’m not?” Andrew repeats himself, rhetorical question now a real one.

Ned shakes his head. “No, all of us have a free evening on Friday! Because I have a surprise for you!"

“For _me_?”

“Yeah, for you. _And_ Steven,” Ned replies, his hand put down again and he’s finally not in Andrew’s direct space. “And you’d better wear a suit, both of you!”

And with that being said, he walks out of Andrew’s office, Eugene and Zach on his tail like some less serious version of the Men In Black. Right after, a notification sound comes from his laptop and as Andrew looks down he can see a new addition to the now otherwise empty Friday in his calendar. It’s two words and they’re enough to make Andrew choke on his own spit, dread filling his stomach.

 _Engagement Party_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sponsored by the Hawaii and Pie episodes (both fueling my own life) and I Don't Care by Fall Out Boy. Any form of validation or messages are always wanted. Delight me, if you want to.


	6. The Party.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew wants to flunk his head into a blender, Steven's a good sport and nothing is awkward at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, it really means a whole ass lot, you wonderful people! I love you, all of you. Thanks for reading this and sticking with me. I reread and rewrote this two whole times, but here it is. It's yours now.
> 
> This chapter became a little bit of a juggernaut and yet I can't give you plot for the life of mine.

“You know, having the Friday off isn’t so bad. I can’t even remember the last time I had a free Friday,” Steven says, while he’s in the bedroom of Andrew’s flat and currently getting into his suit.

Or so Andrew thinks, hopes, as he stands just outside in the hallway, since Steven made him promise to not watch him change. Something about virtues and modesty and while Andrew thought it _ridiculous,_  he abides by Steven’s wish, because apparently all it takes these days for him to crumble is Steven doing or asking anything of him. No matter how stupid it may seem. Since Andrew rediscovered the emotional tumult of being a little bit in love with Steven his mind would bend and break for the man in question and every little of his whims.

“Well, I’m sure it wasn’t as long ago as mine,” Andrew answers in something close to a shout. She, who’s been sitting at his feet since Steven set her down in the hallway before he decided to change (and what is that about?), flinches at the raised sound of his voice and dodges away from his feet into the bedroom. So much for his cat being his cat.

“Yeah, but you have an insufferable work ethic. You’re like the atlas of our office, carrying all of us on your shoulders,” Steven remarks, his voice muffled, which means he’s hopefully closer to being fully dressed and ready to go. They’re starting to be _late_ and if there’s something Andrew can’t stand it’s being late. Especially when it’s to an event held for him, or them, whatever. He’s the centre of attention either way, but he doesn’t want to push it.

Andrew crinkles his nose at the comment. “Is this supposed to be a compliment?”

Steven snorts in reply, the trademark sound of him thinking _Andrew_ is being ridiculous. And, really, he has no right to think that, with him taking over half an hour to change into formal wear. “It could be,” he says. “If you’d take it as it is.”

He can feel the flush creeping up his neck before he can think of anything smart to say, so Andrew just huffs out something he might even call a laugh, praying it can cover up his painfully embarrassing reaction to the simplicity of the back-handed compliment. It’s not even very personal, just about his work ethic. He shouldn’t lose it like this. Jesus.

“You’re still there?” Steven asks over the distinct sound of a rustling suit jacket. Well, they might even be on time at this rate.

“Y-yes,” Andrew retorts, a little bit too fast to make it sound casual.

“Oh, you’ve gone quiet on me. I thought you may have walked away,” Steven answers and Andrew can just envision the small smile on his face as he says it, how it is traceable through the tone in his voice. “Which would have been bad, cause I need your help.”

Now, Andrew can’t help himself, the curiosity of the request burning most of the embarrassment out of him and making him lean into the door to look into his bedroom. He catches sight of She sitting on his bed and Steven standing in front of it with two ties in his hands.

“Teal or yellow?” he asks, brown eyes now catching Andrew’s and he doesn’t seem too cross that Andrew broke the promise he had to make. On the contrary, his expectant gaze seems to overpower his wish for … well, Andrew _still_ doesn’t know if this ordeal’s driven by pride, modesty or some other reason he can’t figure out.

The ties in Steven’s hand have the same cut, more on the skinny side than anything else, and Andrew’s glad he’s supposed to focus on them instead of Steven in his half-buttoned dress shirt and the pushed-up sleeves of his suit jacket. He feels like his mouth goes drier the more he wills himself to be present for this decision. He’d just wave it off and say Steven should take whatever he likes, but he also knows Steven values such things as fashion and trends – or style – and that his opinion will mean something. And if people wouldn’t like Steven’s outfit, which is unlikely, Steven would still blame it on him, so. Andrew can’t have that. Andrew doesn’t want to have that. Not when he has enough shit to worry about already.

“Teal?” he says, eyes not even fixed on the blue silk material but on the patch of pale skin under Steven’s shirt, the way it stretches over his collarbone. That’s a nice collarbone and nice skin and why has Andrew never noted how nice Steven’s bone structure is? His face already looks like it was fashioned by God, or maybe an even higher entity, and while Andrew isn’t one to find his fulfilment in aesthetics there’s something oddly contenting about looking at Steven.

God, Andrew needs help. He’s clearly starting to lose it again.

Steven eyes the tie for a long moment, longer than Andrew’s little inner monologue went, but after a silence filled with nothing but their breathing and Andrew’s hellish thoughts he puts the mustard-coloured tie back onto the bed and takes the teal one in both of his hands to set it around his neck. “Can you help me?”

“What?” Andrew asks, dumbfounded.

“With the tie,” Steven says, ducking his head sheepishly. The way he’s done a hundred times when he said something in a meeting he thought would embarrass himself in front of their colleagues. Andrew has seen it so often, but only today does his brain label the sincere movement as ‘sweet’. _Sweet_. He needs to dunk his head into ice water.

How did he even manage to let his crush go the first time? In retrospect, it looked so easy to him with it being all in the past and him being over that. And it having appeared four years ago. His plan to just _not_ acknowledge it like the last time doesn’t seem to be working. It is not working, actually. Not only seems so. He’s acting like an absolute idiot around Steven and it shows, there’s no way Steven isn’t noticing his lack of usual smoothness, the cool exterior that is his go-to approach to everything and everyone in his life. It’s not here right now, hasn’t been since Mr. Habersberger appeared on his doorstep and tried to prepare his walk to the guillotine.

“I can do that,” he says slowly, his mind still yelling at him to cut the bullshit and act like an adult, to act like he usually did around Steven in the past years. They’re friends, Steven is an honest-to-god friend of his and he can’t let it get weird just because of a crush. A crush is _nothing_. Andrew will tie Steven’s tie and not lose more of his sanity while Steven’s right in front of him, inches away and his face is _right there_ in Andrew’s field of vision.

He goes to work quietly, looping the tie around Steven’s neck again so he can properly get it into a knot. Steven’s breath brushes past his temple on every exhale, letting that nice flush plan its reappearance but Andrew wills himself to keep it together. His eyes are trained on his work, watching his hands, tie between his fingers and seeing the blue of it turn and turn until he has the finished knot. Once it’s all in its place, his eyes drift up to Steven, whose own gaze is set on Andrew’s hands, or more his work, but otherwise he’s weirdly unreadable. Somehow closed off with only a trace of his accustomed openness shifting through his gaze.

He's staring, fixed gaze downwards and the intimacy of the moment reminds Andrew of few days ago after Mr. Habersberger left and they were alone again, Steven all but empty as he avoided any acknowledgement of Andrew right in front of him. It gives Andrew the same odd sensation of being caught in something he wasn’t supposed to notice or be a part of. Which doesn’t make sense since Steven literally asked for his help. So.

Steven’s hand on his nearly startles him and makes him flinch like She did, the dry and cool touch suddenly covering his own hands that have been residing on the tie at the base of Steven’s throat. Elegant fingers encircle his wrist but don’t move further, just stay there, burning their imprint into Andrew’s skin, who’s hot like a furnace suddenly. And he’s definitely flushed red in the face now, the moment suddenly not only intimate but also _shared_ and Andrew can’t keep his gaze from Steven. It is impossible.

“Thank you,” Steven then says, his breath ghosting over Andrew’s nose with the words, his fingers squeezing around the skin and bone of Andrew’s wrist. Andrew’s more aware of the electricity in this action alone than he was in the past years of paying for it in his own home.

Steven finally raises his head, his own nose nearly brushing Andrew’s forehead as the sincerity of his eyes settles on Andrew, who swallows thickly around the lump in his throat and extracts his hands from Steven’s grip on them. “There. All done,” he says, just as quiet as Steven.

He smiles curtly and pats Steven’s chest in the friendliest manner he can manage. “We should go now. Or else we’ll be even later then we already are.”

 

*

 

The party’s held in a restaurant Andrew remembers vividly from his first few months working with Steven. It’s an expensive place they visited for an interview with its pastry chef and it looks as imposingly expensive as it did the last time Andrew was here. As they make their way towards the french doors that lead onto the open patio in the back, a place he didn’t see the last time, he can feel Steven’s hand slipping into his, intertwining their fingers and pressing his not-so-dry palm into Andrew’s, the cool band of an engagement ring rubbing into Andrew’s fingers.

That happened too, between calling the cab and getting into it. Once they both were dressed and standing at the door of the apartment, ready to go, Steven excused himself back into the bedroom and while Andrew was ready to combust at the prospect of being _even later_ it all deflated when Steven came back and said he needed his right hand. A minute and a sheepish excuse about ‘ _making it look_ _real’_ later, both of them had thin silver bands on their fingers, the weight of it so significant that Andrew couldn’t stop playing with his own ring or looking at Steven’s all the way to the restaurant.

“Hey, you don’t need to be nervous,” Andrew tells him, nudging Steven’s arm with his shoulder.

He’s telling himself the same thing, the bubbling in his stomach having stayed with him since the tie incident. Steven seemed to be oblivious to this though, chatting with their cab driver on the way here and romping Andrew into a conversation about some basketball match he didn’t care about. They sat on both ends of the backseat, but gravitated towards each other anyway, Steven’s arms hitting him in the chest or shoulder several times as he listened to his recap of some player’s dire performance. Andrew was glad for the low light, so Steven couldn’t notice how obvious his smile was and how he couldn’t get rid of it, not even when Steven told him that he’d never be the trophy husband of a basketball player and had to live a low existence sponsored by their salaries. The divorce that had been nagging at him since their sham started couldn’t have been further away until that moment when it hit Andrew square in the face. Steven’s silence after he said that assured him that the same thing happened in his brain too.

“I’m not nervous,” Steven lies, the wince leaving his throat as he sees Ned walking up to them contradicting his statement.

Andrew snorts, swallowing his own nerves for the two of them. If someone has to keep this ship afloat, it will be him, he _can_ do this. His few stints in the short movies his fellow film-making majors made should be enough proof that he can. Plus, this here only entails bits of acting since the source material for it to be convincing _is_ there. “We can do this,” he whispers to Steven before he puts his least threatening smile on for Ned.

“Guys! You made it,” Ned greets them, enveloping them in a big hug that’s really just them squished together between his arms. But it’s a short affair, thankfully, and Ned stands in front of them with his eyes on his watch. “Just twenty minutes late, so basically on time!”

His glee radiates off him despite his little chiding, although Andrew can feel Steven squeezing his hand tightly. He squeezes back.

“Everyone is already here,” Ned says after gesturing them to follow him outside.

True to his statement, once they pass the wooden doors, they’re in front of most of their co-workers and their partners (if they have them) with Kelsey right at the front next to Ned’s wife Ariel and Adam, who’s Steven’s co-producer and used to work with Andrew before they hired Steven. Somewhere further down the side are Zach and Eugene, looking ready to jump in to save Ned’s skin if something goes wrong. Between them and Kelsey, they look like an event planning team. Otherwise, their colleagues look surprisingly more like on vacation time than at something close to an office party, which helps to take the edge off and eases Andrew’s nerves. He hopes it’s the same for Steven.

“They are,” Andrew agrees belated.

Everyone cheers and says hello, which is a mixture of a lot of waves and cheering or hello’s that already sound a little buzzed. Andrew and Steven wave back and once it gets quiet again Ned turns back to them, a speech that Andrew could have seen coming from a mile away now being sprung on them without any warning.

“So. Andrew, Steven,” Ned says and turns towards them with glee in his eyes. “Since your engagement jumped up on me in the most unplanned moment,” he glares at Andrew then, but grins nonetheless. “And we didn’t have any celebration like we usually do and I knew you wouldn’t follow through with one anyway, with Andrew practically living in the office – don’t think I don’t notice that, Andrew – and you, Steven, more away eating fancy food than thinking about celebrating yourself,  I decided to take matters in my own hands, or well, into mine and four pair of other hands and throw one for you! It was on short notice, but I hope it’s enough for you. Or, well, let’s just say it has to be, since you won’t get another one from me. Not with a wedding in your future anyway.”

Everyone laughs and even Andrew can’t help but grin. It turns face-splitting when he can feel Steven vibrating next to him, his laughter trickling down in soft drops and so close that Andrew could swear it has its own smell mixing into the Friday evening air and his aftershave. It makes him dizzy, makes him leave Steven’s hand alone to put an arm around his waist and hold him against him in a motion that feels less like showmanship and more like a stupid excuse to set Steven’s joy into stone somewhere on his own body.

That this is their first official outing as an (faux) engaged couple isn’t hitting him right now, not when he hasn’t had one drink yet but already feels afloat thanks to the person next to him. It will probably take him another hour until it will feel more business-like again, more dreadful, more like the charade it is.

Steven leans into his arm, his now free hand curling into the end of Andrew’s suit jacket, his fingertips brushing the material of the shirt underneath, and Andrew wills the hitch in his breath away and tries to marvel at Steven’s acting skills instead, especially when he looks up and gets rewarded with brown eyes looking at him in the softest and warmest manner he’s ever seen. His exes couldn’t measure up to that on their best behaviour.

Now he’s the one to tighten his hold.

“Yes, you lovebirds, we’re still here, too!” Ned shouts at them although he’s only two meters away, but the volume is enough to re-calibrate Andrew’s attention back to him.

“I’m not finished,” Ned tells them, waving towards himself as on display. It’s oddly ridiculous and Andrew wheezes while no one else does, _not even Ariel_. “Now, while I was surprised to hear of your secret engagement, I wasn’t _really_ _surprised_ , guys. And not only because I’m the boss and need to stay on top of these things, but because Andrew, you’re my friend. I’ve known you for years now, since we basically built this publication from the ground up. And I remember in all these years I’ve never seen you the way you are around Steven. From the first minute he walked into our office and demanded to be given a chance you … you just snapped. Not in the bad way, but something of the person I knew you as snapped into something else. I’ve seen you throw people out if they’d get on your nerves too much – or, I’ve seen _Kelsey_ throw them out for you. Very impressive, by the way, but we all know that.” Another round of laughter goes through the room with Kelsey mimicking a short bow towards Ned and everyone around her. “But you didn’t do this with Steven.”

“Even when he was irritatingly grating both of our nerves during his interview, even when you knew he didn’t have any references whatsoever except for telling us he’s passionate about food. You didn’t let Kelsey throw him out or toss his CV into a bin, you did the exact opposite. I swear to everyone here. What Andrew did the following weeks was talk to me any chance he got, convincing me that Steven is the right person for the job. He literally fought tooth and nail until I said we’d hire him. Which we did. And I can’t say I regret it.”

Adam chuckles, Andrew can see it out of the corner of his eyes, and then he feels Steven gripping his waist through the fabric of his shirt and has to smile, _too_ , wickedly. Because he _remembers_ this. Maybe not as dramatically as Ned paints it out to be, but he remembers their several meetings over expanding their range and then more meetings focused on a suitable candidate, Andrew arguing to hire Steven at every point of the way and deflecting any other name Ned pitched to him. Somehow, hiring Steven just felt right. It wasn’t planned or some stroke of genius to turn their Food Section into what he wanted it to be (unlike what some might argue), just his gut instinct telling him to do it. That’s what he told Steven too when they talked about it six months after they hired him.

“So, there was just always something about Steven that turned Andrew into a different man. But a good one, _better_ one. I think we can all agree,” Ned continues, nodding towards them and the others nodding too, solemn like a congregation. “And that’s why I wasn’t surprised when I heard they found their way towards each other. Somehow, it was just a matter of time. My wife taught me that gravitating towards what and who makes you better is what love really is about, what _life_ is about, and I’m so glad Andrew got his head out of the sand and gravitated towards the person that brings out the best in him. And Steven, I’m so glad Andrew made me hire you, because otherwise neither of you would have experienced the joy of having each other. And all of us wouldn’t have had the joy of betting on when one of you finally asks the other out. Needlessly to say, you skipped that part and made Quinta a lot richer than the rest of us. The office’s betting pool is a shark tank, after all.”

Another round of laughter and Andrew is sure he’s bright red in the face, looking as embarrassingly fond of Steven as hearing Ned’s words made him. He’s practically see-through and he’s sure of it.

“Ned’s not wrong,” Steven whispers into his ear then, so unplanned and suddenly that it throws Andrew off his game. He probably just means their colleagues and the infamous betting pool; a cause for many, many holes in bank accounts but also for some damn-fine dining if one has the luck and wins (Andrew did once, shortly after Shane got hired and there was a bet running when he and Ryan would scream at each other _outside_ of a meeting room. Three weeks and Andrew made 150$). Yet, the bubbling in his stomach turns into a sizzling fire. Maybe that’s why he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t red in the face today. He’s just so fucking warm everywhere.

“So, I want to toast to you. Although not all of us have a drink in our hands right now. To making each other better people. And to Andrew and Steven.”

“To Andrew and Steven,” everyone echoes, raising their cocktail and wine glasses or their beer bottles.

They look at each other under the cheering of their friends and before Andrew can overthink the urge, he leans up and kisses Steven. It’s nothing heated, just slides of lips against each other and hearing Steven’s exhale as it happens, but it’s enough to give him a rush of blood to the head, the dizziness manifesting itself as Steven puts an arm around him and holds him in place. Andrew’s eyes are closed but he could bet that Steven’s smiling when they part, hoping he does.

From somewhere Kelsey snatched two beer bottles too and presses them into Andrew and Steven’s hands before she hugs Steven first and then Andrew, murmuring a “congrats again, you asshole” into his neck before she squeezes him so tightly he has to gasp for air.

Ned’s the next to walk up to them, answering to Steven and Andrew’s accusing looks with raised eyebrows and a “I already know I’ll cry too much at the wedding! Let me give you my speech in peace!” But they both hug him nonetheless, Andrew thanking him once more. He’s a good boss, but an even better friend.

After that it’s just a long row of hugs and official congratulations to their engagement, wanting to hear about the proposal or the rings or when they got together, and they manage it. They’re not as close as they were when Ned held his speech, but Andrew’s shoulder is constantly pressed against Steven’s own arm and chest, the proximity easing something inside both of them and making it easier to accept all the well-wishes and answering the curious questions to their yet-unplanned wedding. Quinta cheers as she walks up to them, thanking them for “making me the richest woman in the office” but then spending most of their conversation telling Andrew how ‘ _fucking lucky’_ he is to land Steven.

Steven waves her off, the tip of his nose red at the compliment and just to see him blush makes Andrew want to give Quinta fifty hugs and thank her since this is pretty much the cutest thing he’s ever seen. For real. Steven all flustered will never get old, not to him.

“He doesn’t even know what a catch he is,” Andrew says, and Steven lets out a long, long and suffering sigh.

“No, he’s right, Steven! You _are_ a catch,” Quinta agrees and slaps his arm with her free hand that doesn’t hold a drink.

“I’m _really_ not,” Steven declines but Quinta gives Andrew a telling look and he nods, trying to keep his snicker down while she does the same and Steven still acts like he got hung on the cross for the world to see his burden.

“You are, sweetie,” she says in the same moment Andrew says, “you are, baby,” and if Steven was flustered before, then he just unlocked a whole new level now. The progress is sort of hilarious to watch and just pours more gasoline over Andrew’s crush.

“I think I see Ryan and Sara ganging up on Shane right there at the tree line. If you excuse me,” Steven tells them, extracting himself from Andrew and Quinta’s own ganging up on _him_ , but aware enough that he kisses Andrew on the corner of his mouth before he vanishes down the steps and onto the grass.

Andrew’s gaze follows him through the throng of people gathered in the restaurant’s backyard. It takes him a few seconds before he can snap himself away from his fiancé and just the knowledge of what he’s doing is another nail in his coffin. God, he wishes that this feeling will die out before it gets out of hand, because he _feels_ himself getting out of hand when it has been what? _Two_ weeks? It’s stupid how infuriated he is, unrealistic. That kiss didn’t help.

“You’re so in love.”

 Yeah, Andrew _wishes_ they are.

“Hmm?” he hums instead, not able to form any words that wouldn’t be him confessing to the completely idiotic situation he got himself into through his own stupidity. Which is just the running theme of his life since he decided to leave the idyllic nowhere of Canada behind for sun-soaked Los Angeles.

Zach’s standing next to him now, Quinta apparently leaving him after his little show of a _Pride And Prejudice_ -worthy lovesick stare to rope Adam into a conversation. The bearded man looks unconvinced, but it’s only a matter of time until Quinta will crack him and considering that Rie and Annie are on their way back from the bar with four drinks in their hands it won’t take too long.

“You and Steven,” Zach states. He’s dressed in dark jeans that have purple seems and a thin grey t-shirt with a blazer in the same purple as the seams thrown over it to finish a look bordering between romcom flash mob and Alice In Wonderland live action movie. It’s also a little adult Disneyland but Andrew thinks he can thank Eugene for this.

Still, Andrew doesn’t really know what to make of this or say to this, so he turns his gaze back to Steven who wedged himself between Ryan, Shane and Sara, talking animatedly like he did with their cab driver. He’s always gotten along well with Shane despite Shane being a sounder person than him at first glance and, well, he’s getting along with Ryan much better than Andrew does, so it’s no surprise he looks at home in that company. Andrew makes a note to seat the three of them together and close to them on the wedding day.

“You know, some of us didn’t believe that you two were actually together when we figured out what happened in Ned’s office,” Zach begins, having the fine tuning of a monster truck and reminding Andrew of the train wreck that started the whole thing. “But seeing you here, and in the office – Ned’s right, the two of you are just so natural. It’s crazy. Some people thought Steven was in love with Adam because they always stuck together, but no one could deny your relationship after the past days at work and tonight.”

Andrew wants to dig himself a hole, plant himself into it and put enough dirt over himself that he turns into a tree by sheer force of will and the magic of botany. All these congratulations and sincere beliefs in a relationship that’s just for show makes him start to feel sick and what Zach said is just the cherry on top of the crap-pile. A little over a year and he’ll destroy all of this, all of his colleague’s happiness and faith in him because they’ll get divorce and he will be alone again while Steven will be free to actually pursue someone that is deserving to hear all these kind words. Andrew’s not that guy and it’s hitting him at every turn today. He’s not that guy and he’ll _never_ _be_ and it’s. It hits him more than it should. People think they’re in love with each other, _fucking hell_ , and he’s lying directly into their faces because his career is too important to him to act like a rational person

He’s going to hell with this and he better makes his peace with it now than be surprised when it will happen. He has it coming, clearly, with what a bad person he is to bend Steven into what he needs him to be, what he _wants_ him to be and to make every innocent bystander they cross believe the lie he spins under their feed.

“Friends are friends, only that. But you and Steven are something else,” Zach finishes, knocking his glass against Andrew’s own wine glass, a small cheer between each other that just increases Andrew’s reflex to gag.

“ _Something else_ ,” he echoes, swallowing the lump in throat around the words before taking a sip of the liquor. Maybe not for liquid confidence, but to make this party more bearable.

Zach’s right. They _are_ something else. But what they are exactly is something only time will tell. Steven’s laughing at something Sara said, his arm thrown around her shoulder casually and friendly, and the gasoline in Andrew’s stomach flows up into his chest and ignites the spark there too, and he’s reminded with how intense crushes can be, how ridiculous and blatantly painful. There’s something to say about them and what they turn him into, because all he wants to do right now is walk up to Steven and kiss that smile off his face and taste it until he’ll never have to taste anything else.

 _Something else_. He wants to _show_ Steven what else they can be instead of what they are now. But to know that Steven doesn’t want him this way is enough to root him to the spot and dig up a conversation about some side project Zach is working on with Eugene and soon Ned’s second shadow joins the conversation; Kelsey, Ned and Ariel join them minutes after and then it’s just a big circle full of the people Andrew doesn’t want to lie to.

At least Steven is far enough away to not see the misery Andrew’s in. He can have that all to himself for the next year.

 

*

 

They’re lounging around a table on the patio, Andrew sitting next to Steven with Steven’s suit jacket clinging over his own on his shoulders since he has complained about the chilly weather for five minutes when Steven shrugged out of his jacket and handed it over. When Andrew gave him a questioning look, Steven just said to not get stains on it, as if Andrew would roll around in the grass with it. Somehow, the whole exchange just added more bile to his throat, cutting his vocal chords short even as he could feel Steven’s gaze not leaving him as they said goodbye to most of their co-workers, a mirror of the row of congratulations they received earlier.

Now it’s only them and Shane and Ryan left, since Sara tagged along with Quinta and Adam shortly before Ned and his entourage left them behind but not without reminding them that the restaurant closes around midnight. The four of them are just killing time, stalling probably, but Andrew likes the relaxed atmosphere between them, everyone still a little drunk but sober enough to remember what they’re talking about. He’s never seen Shane and Ryan so comfortable around each other, no bad word spoken through the whole evening if what Steven told him once he came back from his conversation with them and Sara is to be believed. (There’s no reason not to, so.)

He's not sure what’s going on between Shane and Ryan, their tameness the only thing concerning him in this situation. There’s either something brewing there, or something just got resolved, but if Ryan’s shifting around is to go by there’s nothing resolved. Maybe they had another fight in the past days and still chew over the leftovers. Maybe there’s another one coming at them, who knows with them. They know each other’s triggers perfectly.

“I would have never seen you as someone to get married,” Ryan states after a conversation about basketball between him and Steven died down.

Andrew tries to not let it get to him, ignores the radioactive look Ryan gives him. As if he wants to unhinge Andrew’s inner working and put thesis papers out about it. Ryan never looks at him in another way, it’s always trying to figure Andrew out or just glaring at him when they argue about another rejected project. Andrew doesn’t have the nerve or time for either of it, but he also doesn’t want to kill the good mood with dueling Ryan over his honour. Or Steven’s, for that matter.

“What can I say?” Andrew shrugs, going for nonchalant. “Ned’s right when he said that Steven makes a better man out of me,” he says and smiles at Steven who looks at him and smiles back, that decent blush back on the tip of his nose.

The look in Ryan’s eyes doesn’t change, but Shane is lightly hitting him in the shoulder. “C’mon, Ry. They’re _happy_ together. You don’t need to fight over Steven’s honour,” he tells him and says what Andrew has been thinking a minute ago out loud. That guy’s a saint when it comes to reasoning, not even Andrew can keep up with him and that has to say _something_.

Ryan gives Shane one of his deathly glares, but Steven’s laugh at the comment is breaking the spell of seriousness and lightens the mood. Like starlight on a dark night, Andrew thinks to himself and wonders when he became so poetically inclined.

“I’m not fighting over anyone’s honour, least of all Steven’s,” Ryan answers and then he and Shane exchange looks for a good thirty seconds, a silent conversation going down between them before they turn back to both look at Andrew and Steven. “Steven can do that all by himself,” Ryan adds sweetly.

Steven rolls his eyes. Andrew notices that because he’s been looking at Steven every few seconds, stealing glances and basically admiring how well-fitting his dress shirt is, how tight it sits around his shoulders and back despite his lankier figure and how the tie contrasts his eyes so nicely. He really looks great tonight and Andrew is allowed to stare, so it’s not hurting anyone when he actually does it.

“I don’t need to defend anything,” he tells Ryan a little bit more cutting than his smiling face would converse. “Least of all myself.”

Ryan raises both of his eyebrows and because he can be an asshole if he wants to, he says, “Oh, so Andrew’s a _gentleman_?” The inclination is obvious, and Steven turns bright red, redder than he was before, but Andrew still feels like he misses something here.

Shane hits Ryan again, this time harder than before and the gesture has the same air around it as Ned’s annoyingly long-lasting chidings whenever Andrew does something wrong in his presence.

“ _Ryan_ ,” Shane warns him, voice louder than before.

“What? I, just, just thought about it!” Ryan exclaims, no real explanation and it just makes Shane look more furious at him. “I’m sorry!”

Shane sighs, his index finger and thumb rubbing the bridge of his nose. It’s a gesture everyone around the office knows by heart since he usually exhibits it when he’s fed up with Ryan’s shit.

“Yes, you are. And out of line,” he mumbles. “Gents, I think it’s time for me to take our tiny friend home. He might not be as sober as we all though he is,” Shane then addresses them and is already getting up from his seat to wrestle Ryan out of his, who only protests mildly despite Shane’s clear annoyance. Usually, he’d pester the taller man until they’re well good in a fight that considers blood sport more than any healthy argument.

They quickly say their goodbyes and Shane apologizes again, but Andrew waves them off while Steven stands a step behind him as they watch the other two men leave the restaurant.

Andrew turns around to look at Steven, who’s looking at the floor. “Should we head home as well?” he asks, to fill the awkward silence more than anything else.

Steven looks up at him and Andrew can already see the rings under his eyes forming. He gets tired just at the sight of it, but his heart also does that funny little thing where it squeezes itself too tight in his chest. Can’t say he’s a fan of that.

“Yeah, I guess so,” Steven agrees.

They thank the sous chef who’s still there, and the bartender and the last waiters who’re doing their rounds to get the last dishes from outside and steal a bottle of the red wine Andrew had two glasses off while the staff pretends to look away and stumble into a cab with their arms around each other’s shoulders, Steven’s jacket still hanging from Andrew’s frame. This time there’s no space between them in the backseat.

Steven puts his head on Andrew’s shoulder, silver strands of hair tickling as they brush Andrew’s jaw whenever the car moves too much. But the driver’s blissfully ignoring them and in the darkness Andrew feels brave enough to pick up the topic Ryan breached in the restaurant.

“What was that with Ryan?” he asks, hoping it’s clear enough what he means.

“Hm?” Steven hums and Andrew doesn’t need to look to know his eyes are closed. His whole frame is pressed against Andrew in the backseat and he’s radiating warmth like a furnace.

“Ryan? What about me being a gentleman. What did he mean?” Andrew clarifies and cringes after he said it.

It’s quiet in the car then, an odd silence filling the space between them after an evening full of conversation, and Steven’s not moving. He’s stone-rigid and unrelenting and for a moment Andrew thinks he’s never going to answer and feign sleep to get out of this. Maybe to ask in the car wasn’t his best idea.

“I thought you knew about that,” he finally says, more a whisper into Andrew’s skin than anything else.

Andrew’s not sure what that means, exactly. “No, I don't? I think,” he replies earnestly.

Steven sighs, re-positioning his head on Andrew’s shoulder after the car drove over a bump in the road. “I – well. I never –“ but Steven trails off before he says what it is, letting Andrew fish for the meaning in the dark.

“You never?” Andrew asks, his knuckles nudging Steven between his ribs. “Come on, it can’t be _that bad_.”

“I never did … _it_.” Steven finishes just as vague as before.

“ _It_ ,” Andrew repeats. Trying the word in his mouth to figure it out.

“You know. The big It,” Steven tries and it’s in the little embarrassing noise he makes, the weird hand gesture in the dim light of the street lamp they’re driving past that Andrew finally catches on.

He can’t help but laugh once he realizes, humoured but also relieved by the revelation. He thought for a second that it’s something bad, some deep and dark secret, but it’s really … nothing. Well, _not_ _nothing_ , since it clearly must mean something to Steven when he’s been holding out like that. He feels Steven swatting him in the stomach, clearly not amused by Andrew’s fit of laughter.

“Hey!” Steven protests.

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” Andrew breathes as he quiets down, hoping that their driver didn’t hear the exchange they were just having. That would be an awkward end of their ride. “It’s not funny. I just thought it was something really bad and this isn’t … bad.”

“It isn’t?” Steven pipes up, rising his head a little to put his chin on Andrew’s shoulder.

“No,” Andrew tells him, looking down at him. “Why would it be?”

Steven looks confused himself, as if Andrew’s question is now something he can’t quite catch. “I don’t know?” he says slowly. He seems to be waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Andrew to mock him for his lack of experience or something like that.

“Nothing bad about this, Steven,” Andrew reassures him, a curt smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. “It’s your life and you do what feels right to you. End of story.”

And with that the conversation is over. Steven settles his cheek back against Andrew’s shoulder and Andrew watches the houses fly by past the car window. His tiredness is hitting him directly and he yawns into his hand as he tries to stay awake for the both of them. Two blocks before their apartment he’s fairly certain Steven is asleep but is proven wrong when he hears him whisper, “You’re good, Andrew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, do you like some sweet angst? Try "Fourth Of July" by Fall Out Boy when you read. Or maybe after. Or just in general. I really tried to kind of capture that intense and annoying feeling of having a big, big crush. 
> 
> Also, someone had to be a little bit of an asshole, and it got down to Ryan. (but don't worry, i love the real version of him. he's A Good.)


	7. The Sutures.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andrew is having a reality check. Steven has one too, sort of. They work it out in their own way and pace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apoligize for this great hiatus that was going on! People who follow me on tumblr might have already heard it, but my laptop crashed at the beginning of May and it took until the end of June to get it fixed and back to me, and this half-written chapter was just sitting around and waiting to be finished. Then real life and college came in the way, but here we are. Back on track. 
> 
> This is still unbeta'd and hot off the press, so any errors that may occur are now yours and I'm sorry for them.

Life the next days goes back to normal, or as normal as it can be with every single person that hasn’t known about their engagement either striking up a conversation with Andrew once they see his ring or being all moony-eyed towards him and Steven. At least Kelsey seems to be convinced that it’s not a sham wedding she’s been roped into planning by Steven.

So, it’s sort of the new normal to come home from work with Steven sitting on the couch in the living room, Mac on his knees and phone nudged between his shoulder and ear and arguing about what seems to be the size of the venue. He looks annoyed. But then again, he doesn’t really acknowledge Andrew with more than the wave of his free hand before he focuses back on the task at hand. Since that sort-of confession in the back of their cab a few days ago he’s been a bit distant when they’re alone and Andrew tries to not obsess over it, he doesn’t have the right to do so, but he can’t help himself. He misses the affectionate and goofy Steven he’s got to know over the past years. And who came back to him with that past week.

Leaving Steven to himself, Andrew goes into the kitchen to prepare some dinner that doesn’t need the most creativity and finesse, since he’s too beat for that, but which is still more fancy than take-out. It’s his form of a peace offering to Steven and the past few nights it actually worked on warming that frigid air between them at home. It also helps _him_ to unwind from the constant nagging thoughts of the immigration office on top of his manifesting infatuation with Steven. Despite their distance he can’t get himself back in check, instead it just gets worse. Whenever Steven’s in his orbit it’s like there’s a magnet in his pocket that draws Andrew close to him. And it’s not helping either of them. Not when they have to keep their heads in the game.

(Though it can be argued in Steven’s favour that he does, since he is planning their wedding, after all. When he’s not letting his passive aggressive streak out on Ryan when they’re at work. Really, that friendship’s got a good bump after the engagement party.)

“We’ve got the restaurant for the reception,” Steven says, appearing in the kitchen while Andrew’s dumping rice in two bowls.

He turns his head over his shoulder to address Steven while at least looking at him. “Sounded brutal back in there. Sure you didn’t have to kill anyone?”

Steven snorts but doesn’t roll his eyes, so that’s a win already. Maybe tonight will be better than the past ones. Maybe they can finally address the elephant in the room.

“I would never kill anyone. Ye of so little faith,” Steven answers, smiling a little. It’s the nicest thing Andrew’s seen all week.

Andrew raises an eyebrow in response as he places the food in front of Steven and hands him a fork. “You have depth. Don’t sell yourself short,” is his dry remark, own grin taking over his face and Steven leans over the table to hit him in the shoulder. Andrew hisses and rubs over the spot with his free hand.

Steven ignores his complains and answers after a mouth full of rice and fish, “You asked for it. Plus, all I had to do was remind them of the great review I’ve written them and that it’s not hard to take that all back.”

A low whistle escapes Andrew because that’s surprisingly … _cunning_ of someone as sweet as Steven. He really has depth. “Harsh, Steven Lim.”

“I only have one first wedding day, so it better be how I imagine it,” he replies in a shrug, nonchalance masking the definite hurt that his voice should take on, that Andrew expects in every word that leaves Steven’s mouth.

Because there it is again, that guilt that Steven can strike into Andrew with a sentence like that. And sentences of this kind have been coming up rather often in their current past, making Andrew ten times more miserable than the butterflies in his stomach already do. Not like he doesn’t deserve it, he clearly does. But to be reminded at every turn is a little damning for the reputation of his character.

“You’ve got a point,” Andrew says after an uncomfortable beat of silence between them. He can’t look at Steven. Maybe hell is what’s in store for him at the end. He should consult Steven about this when he’s not busy ruining his life.

“I know,” Steven replies and goes back to eating. “The wedding’s the Thursday after the interview. That works for you, right? Kelsey and I kept that day free for you, but I thought reminding you to check your private calendar too is better than having any surprises.”

Andrew knows all about that Thursday. It keeps him up at night along with the Monday before that, eating at him and making him wonder how he’ll go through with lying to an officer of the state and his grandparents in the span of three days. And chaining the man across from him into all of this while being kept out of any real planning these dates entail. He feels so bad, it sometimes gets hard to breathe in the darkness and lying next to Steven. It seems he’s been picking up that churning knot of anxiety from Steven, or maybe his life burning and falling to ashes around him tears at his windpipe. That’d be plausible, even logical.

He’s going insane, _huh_.

“I’m pretty sure the day’s free, but I’ll check again and let you know,” Andrew still says around the lump in his throat and Steven looks so grateful that it only gets worse. He’s close to choking on his own spit the longer he looks into Steven’s emotive face.

Steven’s nearly done with dinner while Andrew’s plate is still way too full and that just means that he’ll have to finish it on his own while Steven goes to bed or plays with She while looking up appropriate wedding flowers that go along with his wedding cake options. It sounds nicer than what Andrew’s night has in store. Not that that needs actual effort, but still. If this wouldn’t be a lie they’re living, Andrew would just curl up next to Steven on the couch and throw his own opinion about some flower he doesn’t care much about into the ring just to grain Steven’s nerves.

“That’s good. It’s hard enough to get a free spot in the chapel anyway. I wouldn’t want to schedule another one,” Steven explains, bringing the elephant back into the space between them.

It’s an opening Andrew wants to use, reassuring himself and Steven that what he said while sobering up in that backseat is something he still means, that Steven doesn’t have to tiptoe around him like he’s scared off by his own decision. Which Andrew is not, for the record, but Steven sure seems to think he is. And Ryan’s own brashness didn’t help the cause in the end.

“Steven, you -“ Andrew begins but doesn’t get far because Steven’s already getting up from his seat and moving past Andrew to put his dishes into the sink. His hands hovering close to Andrew’s elbow and all Andrew wants is for Steven to touch him. It would ease the knots inside of him. But nothing happens, Steven’s not even looking at him when he turns around and leaves the kitchen.

A moment later Andrew can hear Steven say something to She and then the click of headphones being plugged into his MacBook. Andrew sighs and sinks against his kitchen counter; his food having lost any appeal once more.

And to top it all of, even his cat abandoned him

 

*

 Andrew’s busy reworking one of Ryan’s abhorrently long articles when Kelsey knocks on his office door. With a wave he signals her in and takes both of his earbuds out as she positions herself just a step into the room, square center.

“Ryan wants to talk to you,” she says and sounds as suspicions as she can be. Since the engagement party she’s been keeping an eye on him as if he’s a rehashed criminal waiting for his next strike. Apparently, Steven told her what happened. Or Shane did. At this point Andrew doesn’t even ask where she gets her intel from, he just takes it in stride and hope it’s not illegally gained.

“And why?” Andrew asks, closing the tab of the article and closing his Mac shut as well.

“He didn’t say. Except that it’s not about a promotion,” she replies, rolling her eyes to the heavens. “At least that information he granted me.”

Well, it’s better than nothing to already rule that out. Ryan’s been bugging him for weeks to put a good work in for him during his lunch breaks with Ned, hoping that the personal connection Andrew has to their boss will give him an in to at least get a co-leading position next to Andrew’s. Which won’t happen as far as Andrew’s concerned but one can let another man dream, right? That doesn’t hurt too much. Plus, it fuels his ego and his work, if that new essay Andrew has to fix is anything to go by.

“Let him in. But keep an eye on it,” Andrew tells her and she nods, a sly and gracious smile taking over her face.

“I said _eye_ not ear, Kelsey,” Andrew warns her.

“Yeah, you did,” she agrees before turning around on her heels, the grin no doubt still in place as she returns to her own desk.

Andrew curses under his breath before he leans back in his seat to see Ryan barrel in through the glass door, only having the afterthought of closing it. He sits down in the free chair across from Andrew, his sneakers making a squeaky noise on the floor as he arranges himself in his seat. A fierce determination seems to have taken a hold on him and if Andrew could make a guess he’d say this isn’t work-related. Unless Ryan has already seen the redraft of his article, which is out of the plausible.

“Steven’s not talking to me.”

He sounds like a spoiled child and he’s also glaring at Andrew from the other side of the desk after he said his piece (or sentence? it’s more of a sentence) as if Andrew’s the root of all evil that happened upon him in the past days.

“Hello to you to, Ryan,” Andrew greets him sunnily, deciding that maybe Ryan wants two to play this game, but he won’t let him. This is not a playground and Andrew has always seen himself as a mature person. Ryan on the other hand, well, the way he crosses his arms in front of his chest tells a different story.

“Cut the bullshit, Ilnyckyj,” Ryan spits a little bit more passionate than he should be in a matter of radio silence between co-workers. Or friends. Or however one would label the relationship between Ryan and Steven (or anyone that isn’t Shane), although they did seem chummy at the engagement party before Ryan decided to be an absolute asshole for no other reason than to take a chance at being one. “Steven’s not talking to me and you’ve set him up to it because I pissed into your front yard during our last conversation.”

“Pardon me, my _what_?” Andrew replies affronted.

“You heard me just fine, Andrew. Didn’t think hearing loss would happen to you so early,” Ryan says with a devilish smile on his face, seemingly happy about the reaction he got out of Andrew. “You told Steven to stop being friends with me. And of course he agreed, he’d do _anything_ for you.”

As if _Ryan_ has the right to make their whole problem about him. As if Ryan has the right to assume anything about what Andrew has with Steven. God, he’d be fucking glad to know that the last person to give Steven orders is Andrew himself. That Steven would probably rather move in with Ryan at the moment than to even share the same threshold as Andrew. Yeah, Ryan would be ecstatic to know about that.

“You’re crazy, Ryan,” Andrew answers.

“Am I?” Ryan replies readily and so gleefully, that godawful smirk still directed at Andrew, looking like he just won the lottery.

Now it’s Andrew’s time to adapt the epic eye-roll Kelsey gave him earlier. With Ryan around there’s never a dull moment but there’s also no moment that Andrew doesn’t want to strangle him and right now? He has a growing desire for the latter.

“Yeah, apparently,” Andrew tells him before he sits straight in his chair, leveling Ryan with the unkindest look he can muster. “What Steven does are his own decisions, certainly not mine. And if one of them is to ignore the hell out you because you were a shitty friend to him, then be my guest, but he has every right to for doing that after what you pulled. As far as I know you’re both adults and can sort this out between the two of you. And if Steven doesn’t wanna talk? That’s your own stupid fault, Ryan.”

Andrew knows Ryan won’t look directly taken back by this, but on the inside he must be fuming because he knows Andrew’s right. And he hates when they both know that Andrew is right.

“Steven and I were friends before you came into the picture. Great friends,” is his mumbled reply, more into the neck of his jacket than to Andrew. That’s how a defeated Ryan Bergara looks like.

And not to celebrate an early win, but there’s the hint of a smirk on Andrew’s face as he says, “ _Without_ _me_ in the picture you wouldn’t even know Steven. Now get out of my office or I’m gonna let Kelsey escort you out. I have some work to do.”

Ryan is now visibly upset and visibly fuming, getting out of his seat while cursing under his breath and with his awful shoes squeaking every time he takes a step away from Andrew’s desk and towards the door. But with one hand on the handle he turns around and looks at Andrew for a long moment before he says, “Maybe you should do it. To take the edge off. Might serve both of you well, since you became insufferable.”

With that he’s gone, closing the door with force shut behind him. Andrew watches him walk past Kelsey’s desk without another word and certainly on his way to Shane and Sara’s shared office to sulk, but even that can’t keep the shell-shock from Andrew’s face. That was quite a dynamic ending to their conversation. Of course Andrew expected Ryan’s need to have the last word to surpass any form of tact or dignity that he could cling to, but he didn’t think that Ryan would be so pissed off that he’d stoop so low.

What Ryan said has seriously hurt him. Somehow, it has hurt him. More than the assumptions of Habersberger or the whole way his colleagues would want to drown him and Steven in an ongoing honeymoon-phase set off by the news of the engagement. Because he might handle that, might be able to swallow that down and hide his guilt and his idiotic infatuation behind a polite smile and a rehearsed ‘thank you’. But Ryan’s words hit the mark of his own issues with Steven right now dead center and nail on the head and it seems like the sore wound was just cut open with this.

 Andrew thought he might have been back on track with Steven, but Ryan’s words just reminded him that he’s fooling himself. Because when Andrew comes home all Steven will give him is the same radio silence Ryan gets, on top of the most rehearsed smile Andrew has ever seen. And that probably hurts Andrew the most, since it’s his fault that Steven’s like this. He _dragged_ Steven into this, blackmailed him even. If that wouldn’t be enough, he doesn’t even put effort into his own wedding, instead hiding himself behind his work, so Steven won’t know about the stupid crush he has and will walk out on this before Andrew has the marriage license and the promise of his stay in the US in the bag. Since he needed to remind himself why he does that again, what’s at stake. He’s messing up Steven’s whole life for that and Steven just goes along because he’s too good of a heart to say no. Because he’d rather live this lie that makes him miserable than see Andrew lose his job.

And what does Andrew get in return? A fiancé who avoids him and his friends who hate him.

Yeah, that serves him just right.

 

*

After abandoning Ryan’s horrible work and letting Ned and Kelsey know he’d take the rest of the day off, all with worrying glances coming from them included, Andrew walked home from the office. The weather’s nice in Los Angeles about all the time and he could make sure to stop at his favourite pizza place before he got into his apartment and took his usual spot on the couch, She curling up against his side since Steven wasn’t home yet,  and began to rewatch the latest season of Game Of Thrones in order to calm himself down from the conversation with Ryan.

Which worked well until Sansa and Jon reunite and Andrew’s checking the watch on his wrist more often that what is happening on screen. Steven’s going to be home in less than an hour and while Andrew doesn’t have a concrete game plan he knows that he has to talk to him. They need to discuss the gigantic and truly unavoidable elephant in the room. Not only because of Ryan’s nasty comment or his hurt over Steven giving him the cold shoulder, but because Steven is doing the same to Andrew and he can’t take it anymore. If he’ll have to deal with more encounters like Ryan’s detour to below-the-belt-strikes than he wants to be on the same page as Steven, a united front.

Since dinner has been busted as a possible way to get Steven to do more than acknowledge his presence, Andrew decides to ditch it altogether and just talk to Steven and not step down until they have at least _one_ conversation that is about more than making sure Andrew doesn’t forget the wedding date or what groceries one of them needs to pick up. He’ll be happy to chase Steven through the apartment until he gets a door knocked into his face or directly told to fuck off forever. Otherwise, he’ll just say what he wants to say and let Steven decide the rest. At least it will be out there then. At least one of them will have it addressed. That’s better than nothing.

That’s better than what they’ve did recently.

Proud of what plan he came up with so far despite it maybe not being much, Andrew leans back on his couch and tries to act like he’s not still checking the door any minute for a sign of Steven. It’s a little pathetic, he thinks, to be so achingly and stupidly head over heels for someone else that he can’t even prefer his own solitude like he usually would. Hell, that’s what he used to be good at: being alone, being on his own and not being bothered with it. It’s not even because he’s particularly anti-social or hates people per se, but sometimes Andrew just liked to stay in his head and with himself. Sometimes it was just good to be on your own instead of being flooded by another person’s opinion on the things you do and the thoughts you have. And while Kelsey often pointed out that his logic made him sound like a serial killer-loner (now that’s movie-worthy material Ryan would _love_ to dissect), Andrew likes to disagree with her.

It’s just that any relationship with someone else, may it be romantic or platonic, has to be more appealing to him than his own peace and quiet and that was a feast hardly anyone could ever manage. But Steven somehow did. Always did. From his idiotic job interview Andrew sit in with all to him sneakily monopolizing Andrew in their first time working together. He always found a way to weasel himself in between whatever Andrew and what Andrew was doing and turned all the focus on him. It still happens to this day, no more than ever, and it’s just as annoying as it was back then because Andrew is powerless. Andrew is never powerless, never not in touch with his emotions and his surroundings, never not on top of things and ahead of a situation; never _not_ in control. Yet Steven strips it all away from him. Out of all the people he knows, soft-spoken and energetic and optimistic and sometimes a bit too shy for the colour of his hair Steven is the one to cut to the core.

It pisses Andrew off to such an extent, no wonder he’s in love with Steven. But Steven makes it so easy to fall in love with him, how could Andrew ever not fall in love? Steven might be headstrong at his best times and absolutely insufferably going with his head through a wall the worst of times, but he’s also everything Andrew wanted in a partner. Not that there’s a checklist, or boxes to tick, but if there’d be, Steven just ticks them all while creating some new boxes Andrew wouldn’t have thought of, but they just make sense with Steven.

He's going to marry Steven and he’s already in the process of chewing him up and spitting him out and he’d love to not do that anymore. He’d love to put a stop to it despite his desperate grip on his job position. To balance it out. But how? Even if they have the conversation now and clear that argument up, there will still be more roadblocks on their way. All the damn time. How is he supposed to deal with them?

He has no fucking idea.

The noise of a key being turned in the lock is thankfully ending Andrew’s down spiral of overthinking every choice he has made in the past month, but now he’s confronted with the subject of his overthinking standing in the doorway in a ridiculous black bomber jacket that’s embroidered with gold details on the chest and a asymmetrical shirt of the same style peeking through beneath. Steven’s literally the only person he knows that can make something like this look fashionable and it just reminds him of another non-existent box that got ticked off.

“Andrew,” is Steven’s surprised greeting as he stops midway of shrugging his backpack from his shoulders. She has already jumped off the couch to waddle over to him and he greets her with petting her head. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Good questions, perceptive ones at that. Andrew shrugs in response, keeping his body language as neutral as possible as he leans over the couch to take the remote and mute the episode on the TV. “I – I had a little run-in with Ryan today. Decided to take the day off after that and work at home.”

Steven’s toeing out of his shoes and his backpacks now in his hand, slender fingers curled around a strap in a grip that seems a little too strong to be relaxed. Andrew notices these things, hating that he seems to be causing them.

“Ryan, uh,” Steven starts as he flails around the room and his eyes dodge Andrew’s gaze every time it sways towards the living room area. “I’m just going to bring my stuff into the bedroom. Then you can, I don’t know. You can tell me about your conversation with Ryan, if you want to.”

He pauses for a moment mid-step, funnily looking in Andrew’s direction but not looking at him. “Do you want to?”

Andrew ignores the little taste of bitterness in his mouth upon the uneasiness Steven carries around himself in his presence like another layer of clothing. “Yes, I would want that,” he says instead.

“Okay,” Steven replies and nods to himself. He disappears down the hallway for a minute in which Andrew turns the TV off and puts one leg under his other and tries to get back to the confidant angle he used earlier today to throw Ryan out of his office.

Steven reappears sans his jacket and in a different shirt than before but walks past Andrew into the kitchen and returns with a full glass of water that he puts on the coffee table before he sits down on the couch across from Andrew.

“So, Ryan? What happened there?” He offers, sounding more curious about something than he did in the past days whenever Andrew talked to him. That’s a start.

Andrew wants to let out a long sigh, but he thinks that would push the drama too much. Especially when he can picture Ryan doing the exact same as he unloads his struggle in front of Shane, TJ, Sara and every other person that has the unfortunate happenstance of working with him regularly. So instead of lowering himself to this, he just uncrosses his arms and talks.

“Well, I think he decided that the right way to deal with your friendship is with coming to me about it,” he begins tentatively. “And accusing me of making you do that because he – let me quote – ‘ _pissed into my front yard_ ’ when he was a drunk mess at the engagement party.”

The colour on Steven’s face drains completely before his cheeks turn pink terribly fast and for a moment Andrew’s afraid that Steven might explode. He’s so stone-faced that he could be dead, hopefully it’s just the shock because that would make Andrew feel better about his own natural reaction when it happened right in front of him.

“He said that?” Steven asks tonelessly, now for once looking directly at Andrew, but there’s so much disbelief in his gaze that it doesn’t feel like a victory of any kind.

“He did. Apparently you giving him the silent treatment doesn’t sit well with him,” Andrew explains, still cautiously waiting for more of a reaction from Steven. The lack of any emotion seems a bit disturbing, especially coming from Steven who’s usually overflowing with them.

Steven shakes his head, finally showing some reaction to what happened. “And he thinks you … forced me to do that? But why?”

Andrew shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. He seems to think I’m a bad influence on you or something. He didn’t say. Maybe he’s still mad at not getting that promotion.”

“But that happened months ago. I thought he was over that. He _said_ he was over that,” Steven disagrees, gaze so fixed on Andrew that Andrew thinks he’s the one accused now and not Ryan. Well, maybe he is. Probably has been all this time. “And you’d never do that! Goodness, what is he thinking?”

Steven’s shock is starting to pour out of him in big waves. His hands are frantically tugged into the material of his trousers, some sort of wool or silk maybe, and Andrew watches the fingers flex and curl around it as he wonders himself if Ryan just has a strong sense of jealousy towards his friends or if he is right of accusing Andrew of being the root of all evil. In some way he is anyway, so maybe one person seeing through his shit isn’t that mad. Maybe he should get Ryan a nice bottle of Whiskey to celebrate his zero-bullshit tolerance and his lie detector mind. Not everyone has that. Andrew is still looking at Steven’s hands as Steven continues.

“He was an asshole! That’s why I’m ignoring him. He didn’t even apologize to me, not through text and surely not at work. I thought he would, but he didn’t,” he says.

Andrew looks up from Steven’s pale hands to his much redder face and he has the inkling that if he’s not putting a stop to it now Steven will talk himself into a rage and won’t settle until he personally told Ryan Bergara to get it together and not be a fucking asshole of a friend. Not that Steven would swear, but in his imagination Andrew thinks it fits with the anger.

“Steven, Steven, _hey_! Hey, hey, hey!” Andrew interrupts his talk about friendship and fair treatment indeed, his fingers snapping in front of Steven’s eyes until they zero in on the motion and Steven stops talking. “Thank you. Going mad over this is no use. It already happened. We already sorted that part out.”

Steven cocks his head in surprise, taken aback by the sudden calmness of Andrew’s reply it seems. But Andrew already went through the anger-part of the issue when Ryan was sitting across from him, so he’s a bit better at being the reasonable one between the two of them. Not that the default setting is the other way around. It isn’t.

“You. You sorted it out? How?” Steven asks.

“I told him that you can decide well for yourself how you treat the people in your life. Then he accused me of ruining your friendship again and I told him you would never have been friends in the first place without me. He proceeded to storm out after that,” Andrew tells him, leaving out the little detail of Ryan’s last words to him. If Steven doesn’t know them, it won’t hurt anybody.

“Oh, that’s _harsh_ , Andrew,” Steven replies, but there’s the hint of a smile on his face. Something Andrew hasn’t seen since that damned evening as well. “But thank you. For telling him I’m not just doing somebody’s bidding or something like that. I thought he knew me better than that.”

The hurt in Steven’s voice stings more than any silence that stretched between them before this conversation and it’s so natural and automatic for Andrew to reach out and squeeze Steven’s arm that he doesn’t think twice about it, just does it and smiles at Steven when he looks up from where his eyes were cast on his hands and his head was hung.

“Hey, I bet you can talk it out. Ryan’s not that much of a dick,” Andrew tries, believing himself a little.

Steven scrunches up his whole face when he says, “Yeah, but he sort of is. We’re still friends, but I can say that.”

Andrew laughs at that, a bit too loud and too candid but just as natural as his hand on Steven’s arm and he missed that. The easy way things are between them, the tug and pull that’s reminiscent of the waves crawling towards the shore before leaving it again. When he thought of natural, that’s what he means. Their effortless flow of conversation and of touches and actions between them. It’s good to have that back, even when it’s only a taste of it.

“So, are you going to talk to him? You know, tell him he should have apologized and that I’m not some evil mastermind luring you away from your friends?” Andrew asks.

Steven raises his both eyebrows. “And I can also still say you’re a bit of an evil mastermind,” he deadpans. “But you’re also less of an asshole here than Ryan was, so you’ll get a pass and I’m going to defend your honour like you defended mine.”

Andrew snorts. “How very noble of you.”

“That’s what I am. So noble,” Steven agrees solemnly. But it holds only for a second until they make eye contact again and he bends over laughing with his head nearly in Andrew’s lap.

Andrew cracks up with him and for a good minute they’re just snickering to each other before they calm down and take deep breaths to get themselves from laughing again. The easy tug and pull, indeed.

“So, I’m forgiven?” Andrew broaches the subject he’s been afraid of for days now, the atmosphere between them making it easier to breathe though and easier to articulate himself without the fear of Steven running away, too.

Steven smiles and nods before he says, “Yes, you are.”

Now comes the heavy sigh Andrew has been wanting to do since their conversation started. It’s what he’s been longing for for days and it’s as freeing as he thought it would be. Three little words taking the weight off his chest and a smile back to his face that matches Steven’s broad one.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Andrew still asks through his smile because he needs to. His hand has somehow moved from Steven’s upper arm to circle around his wrist. Steven’s skin is warm against his palm.

“After I talked to Ryan,” Steven says, a little less excitement and a bit more real solemn this time.

But Andrew just nods and moves forward on impulse, kissing Steven’s forehead. As he moves away, he can hear Steven snort.

“Yeah, you got me back, alright," he mumbles and then She squeezes herself between their legs and they both laugh again with Andrew's hand still on Steven's arm, the urge to move lower in his mind but ignored in favour of accepting the armistice between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter alone is 5.5k words long and it would have gotten even longer, but I had to make a cut somewhere. Also, Ryan got more mean than I planned but it's also a mad fun to ride. 
> 
> This chapter is another one of an interlude chapter. The boys are not yet through the woods. Will they address the elephant in the room soon? Will it wait until the last few chapters? Who knows!
> 
> Thanks for reading, my guys. Y'all are legends.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for coming along for the crazy ride.
> 
> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. Share your thoughts with me, seriously. You can also chat with me on tumblr (@moonmccoy) where I rant about musicals and buzzfeed's only good content. 
> 
> Also, for maximum feels I recommend listening to: The Hunna - She's Casual, Dua Lipa - Blow Your Mind, Troye Sivan - BITE and From The Dining Table - Harry Styles. We love to suffer.
> 
> Completely unbeta'd, so if you find errors? I am SORRY. If anybody wants to be my beta reader, hit me up. I will gladly let you yell at me and make me better. I am not kidding.


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